


New Beginnings

by truth_renowned



Series: Endings and Beginnings [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, peggysous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:58:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 62,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7114483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy and Daniel move forward with their personal and professional lives. Takes place one year after the events of Endings and Beginnings. Alternates between Peggy's and Daniel's points of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While there is a small summary of the events of Endings and Beginnings in the first few chapters, it would make much more sense reading Endings and Beginnings first. I am breaking away a little from MCU canon. Just a little. I promise.
> 
> Thanks to em2mb's eagle eye catching issues on the first chapter. And big thanks to irisdouglasiana for the California info!

What a difference a year makes.

Looking in the vanity mirror, I see the same woman I was a year ago. Maybe a few more wrinkles around my eyes, a few more scars from my inability to stay out of trouble. However, I am still Peggy Carter. And yet, I’m not.

Within the last year, I have learned that Michael is alive, Vernon Masters is infected with Zero Matter, and HYDRA is back in business. I have a new job and I have a fiancé. In the past year, I have been the recipient of unquestionable love and unspeakable evil. I would like to say that none of this affected me but it would be a lie. It’s made me reassess my priorities, to surround myself with the people who mean the most to me. It’s made me realize the job I do is more important than anything I have ever done. I have lived a life, that much is true, but I know I am far from done.

My role as agent and special interoffice liaison for the SSR keeps me busy. We have uncovered more than two dozen HYDRA operatives lurking in various federal positions, requiring me to be on the East Coast more than I want. However, it has afforded me one luxury: reconnecting with Angie. She still is living in Howard’s penthouse, and I stay there when in town. I admit I had been a terrible friend to her, barely talking with her while in California. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her friendship. One of those priorities that needed adjusting.

Because of the proliferation of HYDRA, I have spent more time traveling than I have been at home. It was difficult being away but knowing that Daniel was here for me, in the home we have made together, made it easier. Telephone calls were frequent, and homecomings were well worth the wait.

I was afraid that he and I would drift apart with the separation but the opposite has happened. I love him more than I ever thought I could love a man. I love him more than the day he asked me to marry him. It's hard to believe that was nearly a year ago. So much has happened but my one constant has been Daniel. Always Daniel.

“Peggy?”

I look at Ana Jarvis in the mirror, then see myself, really see myself. My makeup is flawless, and she has tamed my hair into dozens of loose curls.

“Sorry, Ana. Just lost in thought.”

“Who could blame you?” She tilts her head. “Are you alright? Do you feel ill?”

“No, not at all,” I say, adding a smile. “Just reminiscing.”

“Good memories, I hope.”

“Yes, the best.”

“Good,” she says with a satisfied nod. “Today is not for sadness. Today is for happiness only. I insist. Now, let us get this secured.”

As she angles a satin Juliet cap and pins it to my hair, I think about what is about to happen. Of all the events in my life, including the war, this one has me the most nervous. Why, I don’t know. I knew it was coming. I wanted it to come. So why are there butterflies flitting about in my stomach?

“There,” Ana says. “You are all ready.”

“Yes, I am.” I stand and take another look at myself in the mirror, slipping on the white gloves tipped with lace at the wrist. The white satin suit Ana made fits me perfectly. The jacket dips low in the front, but not obscenely so. The skirt hugs my curves, flaring out at the knee and ending in the middle of my calves.

With this final look in the mirror, I realize that I was wrong earlier. I am not the same woman I was a year ago. I am better.

“Ana, I can't thank you enough for planning this. I don't think it would have happened without you.”

“It was my pleasure, Peggy Carter.” Ana smooths the buttons on my jacket, then straightens the brief veil on the hat. “Now go out there and become Mrs. Daniel Sousa.”

\--------------

I am going to throw up.

Why am I so nervous? This is everything I have wanted since I met Peggy. Everything I never thought was possible. I’m just glad there’s a breeze out here. Otherwise I might pass out, too.

“Breathe, Sousa,” Jack says from the front row, poking me in the ass with my cane.

“Gee, thanks, Thompson. I would have forgotten to do that if you weren’t here.”

Thanks to Stark, not only do we have his California mansion and backyard for the wedding, I now have what he calls a new state-of-the-art prosthetic. I wasn’t convinced, especially after the first time putting it on. It’s been a month of pain and sores, adjustments, more pain, more adjustments, but finally it’s what I would call a success. I’m much more stable on it, and I can use a cane more often than not. The crutch isn’t a thing of the past, but I’m not tied to it exclusively. The best thing about this new leg is that I can stand at this makeshift altar, free of restraints, to marry the woman I love.

This has been almost a year in the making. A year of both of us buried in work. A year of her traveling and rooting out HYDRA in all reaches of the government. A year of me building the LA SSR office from a ragtag bunch of rookies to an office of a dozen well-trained agents who have better solve rates than Jack’s men.

Peggy and I literally had to pencil in the wedding and honeymoon on our calendars. This was the only three days the both of us had free. We chose not to tell our families about the marriage. We’ll pay for that decision, me especially, but it had to be. The less our families know, the safer they will be. The people here are the ones who have been with us, our backup so to speak, over the past few years.

The string quartet stops their jaunty tune. Several seconds later, they start ‘Here Comes the Bride’.

Here comes the bride. This is really happening. I still might throw up.

The double doors to Stark's mansion open. As she steps out, I am overcome with Peggy’s beauty. She is a beautiful woman, no one can argue that, but with her long hair spilling over the shoulders of her white suit, bright red lips parted with a big smile, a bouquet of white roses in her hands, she is a vision.

“Breathe, Sousa.” Jack again. This time I'm glad he said it because I'm getting light-headed. I take in a deep breath and force it out through my mouth.

She stops at the first row of seats and hands her bouquet to Angie, who is bawling like a baby. Peggy then removed her gloves and gives them to Rose, who is seated next to Angie and also is bawling.

Then my bride turns to me. She steps closer, taking my hands in hers. I can't help myself. I lean forward and our lips meet for gossamer-soft kiss.

“Hey,” Stark says, “you're supposed to wait until you get hitched to do that.”

We break the kiss mutually and at the same time say, “Shut up, Howard.”

It gets a chuckle from everyone, Stark included, which helps loosen me up.

We're really doing this. We're getting hitched.

I smile. “You ready?”

“Always,” she says, squeezing my hands.

The minister officiating the ceremony is talking but I am not listening. My full attention is on Peggy. How did this happen? How is it that I get to call this incredible woman my bride? What right did I do in this world to deserve her? It must have been a doozy, whatever it was.

It's been two weeks since I have seen her. She flew in last night from New York and stayed here at Stark’s. The last time I saw her, she was my fiancé. In just a few minutes, she will be my wife.

I hear my full name, and the minister is looking at me. Guess I need to pay attention now.

“Do you take Margaret Elizabeth Carter to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?”

I meet her gaze. “I do.”

“And Margaret Elizabeth Carter, do you take Daniel Antonio Sousa to be your wedded husband, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” she says, her voice strong, determined.

The minister turns to me. “And now the ring.”

The ring. The ring. Pocket! Which one? Not left. Right. There it is!

The minister smiles at my fumbling and I hear Jack mumble something that sounds suspiciously like ‘real smooth.’

I take her hand and hope I remember the words I was supposed to memorize.

“Peggy, I give you this ring as a reminder that I will love, honor and cherish you, in all times, in all places and in all ways, forever.”

I slip the ring on her finger. I meet her gaze and see the tears welling in her eyes. We stare at each other for a second, or maybe an hour, I don't know. The enormity of the moment is almost too much to handle.

That moment is broken as the minister clears his throat. Peggy turns to Angie, who gives her a ring. My ring. She takes my hand.

“Daniel, I give you this ring as a reminder that I will love, honor and cherish you, in all times, in all places and in all ways, forever.” Her voice wavers on the last few words as she places the ring on my finger.

“By the power vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Daniel, you may kiss your bride.”

With pleasure. It's a ‘we’re in public’ kiss, reserved but serving as an appetizer for what will follow when we are on the honeymoon.

The minister waits until we end the kiss, then says, “Esteemed guests, I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Sousa.”

We look at each other, stupid grins on our faces as the audience erupts in applause and whistles.

She laughs and I kiss her hand. The one with the wedding band on it. The one that proves she is my wife. I think back to three years ago, Ray Krzeminski -- God rest his soul -- telling me that Peggy wouldn’t give up a red, white and blue shield for aluminum crutch. How do you like them apples, Ray?

Angie gives Peggy her bouquet, Jack hands me my cane, and we walk hand-in-hand toward the house. We open the double doors, step inside and close the doors behind us.

“We did it,” I say, pulling her close.

“About bloody time.”

The kiss this time is not chaste and not a ‘we’re in public’ display of affection. This kiss means business.

I hear voices approaching from outside and pull back. “Our public awaits.”

“I suppose so,” she says, running her thumb over my lips. “We’ll continue this later, Mr. Sousa.”

“You can count on it, Mrs. Sousa.”


	2. Chapter 2

The scotch makes a smooth descent, spreading its glorious warmth as it travels down my throat. This is more like it. Scotch, especially from Howard’s exclusive collection, has a calming effect on me. It won't help the jet lag but it does taste divine.

The men have retired outdoors for cigars, and Rose, Angie, Ana and I are in the sitting room. Ana and Angie are in a spirited discussion about stage costuming. I find myself looking toward the double doors.

Rose leans into me. “Go ahead, Peg. I know you're dying to go out there.”

I smile. “Let the gents have their time. Lord knows what they are talking about.”

“Not you, that's for sure. The chief isn't one to kiss and tell. He knows you'll kick his ass.” She elbows me lightly. “Go grab a cigar with them.”

I look at her, shocked. How did she know? “Your investigative skills are improving, Agent Roberts.”

“I'm learning from the best, Agent Carter. Or is it Sousa now?”

“Carter for work, Sousa for play,” I say with a grin.

She laughs. “Go.”

I squeeze Rose’s hand and excuse myself to Ana and Angie.

I exit the house and immediately spot the men gathered by the pool, one standing and two, one of them my husband, seated on the chaise lounges. I hear laughter, then I'm spotted.

“Peg, come on over,” Howard says, lounging on the chair.

I approach them and stand next to Daniel. His hand reaches for mine, and he scoots over to make room for me on the chaise.

“Where's Mr. Jarvis?”

“Flamingo emergency,” Howard says. “Bernard got out of his enclosure again.”

I shake my head. “Honestly, Howard. Mr. Jarvis is not a zookeeper.”

Howard brings his cigar to his mouth and nods. I nod back. He breaks out another cigar from the humidor and cuts off the end. He walks over to the chair and hands me the cigar, then lights it. I take a few puffs, well aware that Daniel and Jack are staring at me, slack-jawed.

Taking a long drag, I let out the smoke with a sigh. “Fabulous as always, Howard.”

“Danny boy, you've got your hands full with this one,” Jack says with a bark of laughter.

Daniel’s arm slips around my waist. “I’ve known that since the day I met her.” He plants a kiss on my temple. “How did I not know you liked cigars?”

“We all have our little secrets, Daniel.”

"Yeah,” Jack says, “Sousa likes to bake and decorate cupcakes.”

Daniel whacks him on the leg with his cane.

“Howard, any updates on the bunker?”

“No shop talk, Peg. It’s your wedding day.”

“Why is everyone so insistent on what I can and cannot do on my wedding day? I will do whatever I want.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Jack says.

I glare at Jack, then turn my attention to Howard. “Are you still on schedule?”

“Yes, we should have it done by the end of the month. Then we have to fill it with all of the toys.”

“Phillips is hot to trot for this bunker,” Jack says. “You really think this new agency will take off?”

Howard chuffs a laugh. “It better. I’m spending a bundle on it.”

“It will take off,” I say. “Colonel Phillips has approval from the President, as well as a modest budget. He knows my team and I can’t keep up with all of the HYDRA operatives.”

“They’re breeding like bunnies,” Jack says, taking a sizable swig from his glass. “I just want to know what all of this means for the SSR.”

Typical Jack Thompson. Looking out for his own arse. “Why, have you heard something?”

“A few rumors, nothing concrete.”

“Rumors are not fact,” I say, well aware that I've heard the same rumors.

“Thanks, Marge. I didn’t know that.”

I have the urge to whack him with Daniel’s cane. “That’s Mrs. Marge to you.”

Jack chuckles. “Still can’t believe you two got this far.” He turns to Howard. “They wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

Daniel and I both laugh.

“Hey, it’s true,” Jack says, his words starting to slur ever so slightly. “If it weren’t for me sending Carter out here, you two would still be on different coasts, pining away.”

“I do not pine,” I say with a puff on the cigar.

Jack points to Daniel. “Maybe not, but he does.”

“Jack, you’re an ass,” Daniel says lightly.

“But I’m right.”

I close my eyes and lean against Daniel, slowly taking another pull on the cigar. Between the jet lag and the scotch, I can feel myself waning.

Daniel's arm tightens around me. “I think it's time for us to hit the road.”

“Just in time,” Howard says. “By the time you get to Malibu, you'll get to see the sunset over the water. And it's a private beach, so you can do whatever you want under that sunset.”

I flick the remainder of my cigar at Howard, hoping to singe his suit, but he catches it. As I stand, I notice Daniel having trouble getting up. The chair is very low and he's had a long day on a leg he's still adjusting to. I turn to help but Jack is there, offering a hand. Daniel hesitates; I know what is going through his mind. There is no way in bloody hell he would ask for help from Jack Thompson, especially about this.

To my surprise, Daniel grasps Jack’s hand and allows the man to help him up. I think I've just witnessed a miracle.

“You two deserve each other,” Jack says to Daniel, releasing his hand. He then looks at me and smiles. “I mean that in a nice way.”

Daniel smirks. “Sure you do.”

“You questioning my sincerity, Sousa?”

“Every day of my life, Thompson.”

I muffle a laugh. These two will never admit they like each other but I know they do, in their own ways.

I move to hug Howard. “Thank you for all of this.”

“My pleasure, Peg. Really.”

“And please keep me posted on the bunker. I'd like to add some equipment to the list.”

“Watch out, Sousa,” Howard says quite loudly. “She likes spending guys’ money.”

“Only yours, Howard.”

Howard and Jack stay outside as Daniel and I enter the house. Mr. Jarvis is standing next to Ana, who is fussing with his hand.

“That creature is the pure incarnation of evil,” he says, showing us a small puncture wound on his hand, a drop of blood leaking from it. “It bit me.”

Ana blots his skin with a handkerchief. “Dear, I don't think flamingos have teeth.”

“Then it beaked me.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Mr. Jarvis, you'll make sure Agent Thompson gets to the hotel safely?”

“Of course, Miss Car…” He stops, furrows his brow. “Um… Mrs. Sousa...?”

“Whatever you are more comfortable with, Mr. Jarvis.”

Ana chuckles. “Are you leaving now?” 

“Yes. I still need to go home and pack.”

“You're not going anywhere,” Angie says sharply. I didn't realize she had walked up behind me. Her hands are on her hips but she has a twinkle in her eye. “English, I was okay with you not having bridesmaids or a maid of honor. I put up with not getting to see or be in any wedding photos. I didn't say a word when I found out you wouldn't be shoving cake in each other’s mouth. But you're not leaving here without giving me _some_ tradition.”

Angie stomps to the sitting room and returns with my bouquet. What the bloody hell? I look at Rose, who motions throwing something behind her. Now I get it.

“Very well, Angie. Just for you.”

I turn around and roll my eyes at Daniel. He bites back a smirk. I toss the bouquet over my shoulder and turn just in time to see Angie elbow Rose out of the way. The bouquet drops into her hands and she squeals in delight.

I look at Angie. “May I leave now?”

“Yes.” She hugs the roses to her chest.

We finish saying our goodnights, and Rose walks out with us toward our cars.

“You sure you have the phone number of the beach house,” Daniel says to Rose.

“Yes, Chief. I have it and Baxter has it.”

“And you’ll keep an eye on Aileen? You’ve done a good job training her to take your place but she's still so new and...”

Rose puts a hand on Daniel’s forearm. “Chief, Aileen is fine, I am fine, Baxter is fine, we’re all fine. We’ve all been trained by the best, and we know how to do our jobs. Leave the work behind for a few days. It will be here when you get back.” She turns to me. “That goes for you, too, Peg. This is a new beginning for both of you. Go celebrate it.”

She turns on her heel and heads to her car.

“Rose, you are a gem,” I say to her back.

She looks at me over her shoulder. “I know.”

We get into Daniel’s car, and both sigh at the same time.

“Long day,” he says, his hand taking mine. 

“Great day.” 

“The best.” He kisses my ring finger, then releases my hand to start the car.

“We owe Howard,” I say. “Yet again.”

“I don’t think he sees it that way, Peggy. He wants you to be happy. So do I.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m happier than I ever have been.”

Daniel pulls up to a stoplight. He leans over and kisses me, then continues on. We drive the rest of the distance home in silence, a comfortable silence we have developed over the past year.

We pull up in front of the house. Daniel's bags are packed, I'm sure, but I have to empty my suitcase and refill it with fresh clothes. I unlock the door and start to walk inside but Daniel grabs my arm.

“Wait,” he says, putting his cane and my suitcase inside the door.

What the bloody hell?

He comes back outside several steps, facing the entrance, his legs slightly spread. He motions for me to move in front of him. Before I can react, he lifts me into his arms.

“Daniel!” I wrap my arms around his neck as he shifts me a few times.

“Angie is right,” he says with a smile. “We need to have _some_ tradition.”

One shaky step at a time, he walks us into the house. As soon as we clear the door, I slam it shut and he lets me down. I keep my arms around his neck and seal my lips to his. The kiss goes from sweet to hungry in record time.

He pulls back. “You need to pack.”

“It can wait,” I say, moving in for more.

He turns me around to face away from him. “Go pack. I want to see my new wife backlit by a sunset.” He swats me on the bum.

I look over my shoulder and stick out my tongue, but I grab my suitcase and go into the bedroom, tossing clothes out and quickly putting new clothes in. I add in a little surprise for later that Angie helped me pick out.

Thanks to frequent traveling and packing, I am ready to go in under ten minutes. Bringing my suitcase, I walk into the living room and see Daniel at the picture window. He closes the curtains and faces me. The deep creases in his forehead alert me.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I think,” he says. “I just saw a car drive by the house very slowly.”

I move to the window and peek through the curtains. No cars driving by, no one walking around.

“Did you get a look at the driver?”

He nods. “Female, young, brunette. There was a passenger, I think male, couldn't see hair color, just facial shape.”

“There's no one out there right now. Maybe they were lost?” The second I say it, I doubt the words.

“I don't know,” he says.

“Well, we know it's not Dottie. Last time I heard, she’s still in the federal facility in DC. I could call and double-check.”

“No, Phillips would have let us know if she got out, and she's a five-hour flight away. Besides, this woman had a more fragile, thinner face. It wasn't Underwood. She's good with disguise but not that good.” He shakes his head and huffs out a laugh. “I'm just being paranoid.”

I join in with the laugh. “We just can't let it go, can we?”

“It's our life, Peg. Work and this, us.” He puts his arms around me. “We don't have nearly enough of us.”

“No we don't.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “How about we devote the next two days to nothing but us?”

“You're on,” he says as his lips meet mine.


	3. Chapter 3

“Howard was right,” I say, looking out over the ocean from the second-floor balcony. “This is absolutely breathtaking.”

Daniel is standing next to me, his arm wrapped around my waist. “Yes, it is.”

I glance over and catch him staring at me. “I meant the sunset.”

“I know you did.” He moves to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around me and gripping the railing. “I was admiring all of the scenery.”

My hands settle on his forearms. “How is it that we have never done this before, taken in a sunset over the water?”

“Because we work too much.”

I lean my head back against his shoulder. “I wish that didn't have to happen.”

“So do I.” 

We stand there, looking out over the ocean for a while, not caring what time it is or how long we've been here. Our time in Malibu is for us.

Eventually he shifts his weight from side to side, then tenses.

I turn to face him. “Your leg?”

He shrugs. He won’t tell me how much pain he is in.

“Go take it off,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Maybe a warm bath will help? There is one of those new wide-lipped tubs in the bathroom.”

He shrugs again. “I haven’t soaked in a tub since I had physical therapy at the hospital. Probably wouldn’t hurt.”

“Do you need help?” I know my smile is more playful than helpful.

“I've got it,” he says, returning the smile. “Just one thing, though.”

His mouth captures mine, immediately demanding. I give him what he wants, what we both want. There is nothing more amazing, and arousing, to me than passionately kissing this man, my husband, with an ocean sunset as the backdrop.

I pull back, if only to catch my breath. “Go. I'm going to stay out here a little longer.”

He lips graze mine softly before he grabs his cane. As he turns to walk away, I smack him on the bum.

Without stopping, he says, “You’ll pay for that, Peg.”

I laugh he enters the house. The balcony is attached to an expansive bedroom. One of the biggest beds I've ever seen is against one wall, facing the double doors to the balcony. The room has a dressing table, a sizable wardrobe and, the pièce de résistance, a floor-to-ceiling mirror taking up a third of the wall opposite the bed. No doubt we are in one of Howard’s residences. Thankfully, the room is lacking his portrait and a ceiling-mounted mirror.

I turn back to the ocean. The orange of the sunset mixes with the blue-black of the water’s horizon, creating a consonance of color I’ve never seen in one place. The rippling of the ocean is mesmerizing. A slight wind whips through nearby palm trees, and the sound of the trees and water threaten to lull me to sleep.

Today has been perfect. Our version of perfect. The wedding was understated but so us, despite what Angie thought of our lack of tradition. I’m glad she was there to share it with me, as well as Rose, Howard, Jack, and the Jarvises. I am a lucky woman to have such good people in my life.

I can’t help but think about the one person I wish had been there. Despite there being no word on his whereabouts, I know he is still out there. I learned much of my resourcefulness from him; what he and I got away with growing up is nothing short of a miracle. Michael is out there, I can feel it, and I will find him. I will get my brother back.

The sun finally disappears into the horizon. It’s still relatively early, though my body is telling me it’s three hours ahead. I’m tempted to climb into the tub with Daniel but I know he’s in pain. He needs this time for himself.

However, I could give him a sneak peek into the evening. 

I silently say goodnight to the ocean and trees, and enter the bedroom just in time to hear the water in the bathroom shut off. Excellent timing.

Digging in my suitcase, I find what Angie and I picked out for my wedding night: a very short, very sheer baby blue nightie with matching bloomers. It looks good on, though it leaves very little to the imagination. Angie said that was the idea.

I change into it lightning-fast, and quietly walk to the bathroom. He is lying in the tub, eyes closed, head settled back and arms sitting on the tub’s edge. His profile is so powerful: sharply angled nose with a slight bump, broad square jaw, strong chin. It never ceases to surprise me how quickly those sharp features soften when he looks at me. 

His long eyelashes flutter and he opens his eyes. He sees me, leaning against the doorjamb, staring at him. He is staring back; the way his gaze rakes over me, I think he approves of my purchase.

“Wow.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I can forego the bath.”

“No, stay in there. You look more relaxed already.” My voice is half an octave lower. Damn, what this man does to me with just one look.

“You could come over here and unrelax me.”

“I could,” I say, tilting my head as if considering it, “but I won't. I'll just let you think about what is waiting for you when you get out.”

I turn, giving an exaggerated swing of my hips as I walk away. Little does he know, I have one more surprise for him. 

This is going to be a night to remember.

\-------------

I open my eyes. Did I doze off? The water is cold now. How in the hell did I fall asleep, knowing what is waiting for me? My leg does feel better, but I've waited long enough to unwrap that delicious package in the bedroom. Getting out of the tub and drying off takes just a few minutes.

Naked, I crutch my way into the bedroom, which is lit only by the moonlight filtering in through the balcony doors. The light paints a swath of white across the bed, partially illuminating my wife. She's lying on her side, one arm curled on the pillow where her head lay and the other splayed out next to her.

So beautiful. So asleep.

I knew the jet lag would catch up with her. I sit on the bed, trying not to make too much movement. She stirs as I lie down next to her.

“Sorry,” she says, sleepiness softening her voice. “I'm awake.”

“No, you're not.” I run a hand through her hair.

Her gaze moves down my body. “I will be.” 

She kisses me with more power than a sleepy woman should have. I was willing to wait until later but apparently there is no need. Her mouth leaves mine to pull the nightie over her head, then her lips latch onto my neck. As her hand closes over my hardness, I instinctively push into her touch. 

Tonight is going to quick, whether I want it to be or not. I need to get… Ah, crap.

I still her hand. “Hold that thought. Need to get in my suitcase.”

“No, you don't.”

I smile. “You got them already?” I look on the side table for the telltale paper box.

“We don't need them.”

If I raised my eyebrows any higher, they would be off my face. “Peggy, is that wise? We don't want… I mean, you don't want to get…”

“I won't.” Her hand goes to my face, fingers caressing my cheek. “On one of my many trips, I read an article about a fascinating woman named Margaret Sanger. She has spent years fighting for the right for women to have choices, to take more control over their own bodies. She’s the most outspoken proponent of birth control in this country.”

Birth control? I thought we were doing that already.

“In doing more research on her, I read up on those choices she fought for, and I found one that works for me. For us.”

Choices? For what?

She smiles at what I am sure is a confused look on my face. “Before I left New York this last trip, I saw a doctor.” My eyes widen. “No, no. I am fine. Healthy as a horse, as they say. I went to the doctor to have a procedure done, to have a diaphragm fitted."

“A what?”

“It’s a birth-control device, apparently gaining popularity in the last few years. I can go into the scientific explanation as to how it works, if you like.” I shake my head, and she smiles. “I didn't think so. Anyway, a doctor has to fit it. I can stop using it when we are ready to start a family.” 

_When_ we start a family. Because she believes that day will come. A family, with Peggy. My mind is reeling from the possibilities but I shake it off.

“This device. Is it safe?”

“I wouldn't do it otherwise.”

“But the condoms work, don't they? You didn't have to… to go to a doctor.”

“They did work but we’re married. It's different.” She sighs and I can tell she’s struggling for the right words. “We have broken down the work barriers as much as we can. We've crossed that final emotional barrier and are now husband and wife. I wanted to break down that last physical barrier between us. I want you, Daniel. Just you. No barriers. Not anymore.”

I didn’t think it was possible for me to love this woman any more than I do right now. I was wrong. 

“Peggy, have I told you lately how lucky I am to have you?”

“Not in the past hour or so.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Daniel. Now make love to your wife.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say as I seal my mouth over hers, my lips and tongue insistent. She’s just as insistent, if not more so. 

I remove the last barrier between us tonight: the matching panties to the nightie. My hand roams her body, fingers brushing over all of the familiar curves. I know her body as well as I know my own.

In the past year, not only did we learn about each other’s likes and dislikes, we also discovered that her being on top was not our only option. It was an eye-opening and thoroughly enjoyable discovery process.

I move over her, aligning our bodies and supporting myself on my forearms. My stump sits on her left thigh, her right foot planted on the mattress and to the side. I rub myself against her and can feel she's ready for me. Forcing myself to take it slow, I slip into her. 

Mary Mother of God.

The feeling, just her and I, skin against skin, everywhere skin against skin. No barriers.

“Oh my God,” she says on the end of a sigh, her fingernails digging into my back.

“Yeah” is all I can manage.

I don't move, not because I don't want to, but because if I do, this will be all over in a few seconds. For both of us, I think, as her muscles are clenching around me already. 

“God, Daniel.”

I swallow. “I never realized how… restrictive... those things were.” 

She breathes out a short laugh. “Neither did I. Thank God for Margaret Sanger.”

“She's a saint,” I say, daring to move. I pull back, gently push back in. The sensation has every nerve ending on my body on alert. I do the same thing again.

She moans, pushing her hips against mine, taking me in deeper. 

Jesus.

“Peg, I'm not gonna last.”

“Then don't.” She nips at my earlobe. “Come for me, Daniel.”

She said the magic words.

I exhale a growl, an actual growl, as I pull back, forgetting about being gentle and thrusting into her, over and over. Her hand is between us, bringing herself to that edge that I am dangerously close to myself.

“With me,” I say.

“Yes. Almost.”

I hold back until I hear her gasp, then feel her heat pulsing around me. I thrust again, and again, and one final time before my body tenses, the pressure having nowhere to go but out. 

My mind is blank. Gone. All I can do is lower my head to her chest. I'm lucky I still know how to breathe.

“Daniel, that was…”

“Uh huh.” I can't think of an adjective adequate enough to express what it was. I can barely think of my own name at this point.

“You OK?” Her fingers brush through my hair, fingernails grazing my scalp.

Finally I can lift my head to look at her. “I'm wonderful. You?”

“Incredible,” she whispers.

“Sorry about the, uh, speed.”

“I'm not.” Her hands move over my neck, down my shoulders and back up again. I never get tired of her touching me. I never will.

I smile at her. “I just realized something.”

“What?”

“We're not leaving this bed for the entire weekend, are we?”

She laughs. “Probably not.”

“Good.” My mouth covers hers, tongues and lips intense yet unhurried.

This is going to be a weekend to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now know more about 1940s contraceptive practices than one person should know. And Margaret Sanger is a rock star. 
> 
> ETA: Slight edit due to further research, thanks to a convo with rhymeswithlevi, who also is a rock star.


	4. Chapter 4

My eyes flutter open and I am momentarily blinded by the sunlight flooding the bedroom through the sliding glass door. I roll over and the bed is empty next to me. It’s already been a good morning: making love to my husband, not once but twice. I wonder if it’s afternoon yet. Frankly, I don’t care.

Reluctantly, I get out of the comfortable bed and walk into the bathroom. I give my teeth a quick brushing and run a brush through my hair, which looks like it’s been in a hurricane. Again, I don’t care. After slipping on my robe, I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen. The coffee pot is full, and there’s a cup of tea steeping next to it.

I love this man so much.

Looking out on the downstairs patio, I see him at the table, a cup of coffee sitting on the glass top. He is seated, facing toward the ocean. He’s wearing casual khaki trousers and one of his Hawaiian shirts. 

Taking the tea, I open the screen door, and he turns at the sound. 

“Good afternoon,” he says with a grin.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Why? Do you have somewhere to be?”

I take his offered hand. “No, I'm quite blissful right where I am.” 

I put the tea on the table and sit on the chair next to him. He leans toward me and I meet him halfway, just as I always do. The kiss is sweet, unhurried, much like our lovemaking earlier. Our lips part mutually, both of us smiling.

“I was thinking of going for a short dip,” I say, nodding to the ocean. “Care to join me?”

“Unless it’s in the tub, I don’t think so.”

“It’s a private beach, remember?” I take a sip of the tea. Perfect.

“Sand and I don’t get along very well, especially not today.” He knocks on the prosthetic.

“Still hurting?” I run a hand over the top of his thigh.

He shrugs. “Overactivity.”

“Guess we’ll have to curtail our activities today,” I say with a sly smile.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I just need to choose which activities I want to do. But you go. I’ve always wanted to see you in a bathing suit.”

I rise from the chair. “Who says I’m wearing a bathing suit?”

“Tease.”

I wiggle my hips as I walk inside, then run up the stairs to the bedroom.

The suit is a deep royal blue, one-piece with thin straps. It’s modest, considering the myriad bathing suits I saw, but it still shows off my curves. It comes with a matching cover-up that ties at the neck, which I slip on before grabbing a towel from the hall closet on my way down the stairs.

I walk out the door to the patio, moving right past Daniel. He grabs my hand, pulling me back. I stand between his legs, and his hands roam under the cover-up, settling on my waist.

“This is nice,” he says, not bothering to hide his wolfish smile.

“Sure you won’t join me?”

He shakes his head. “Go enjoy the ocean. I’ll help you out of this later.”

“Deal.”

The patio has a small gate, which I open. Two steps outside and I am on the sand. It feels wonderful between my toes. The breeze whips my hair around me and ruffles the cover-up. The salty, clean smell of the ocean is addictive. Howard said that Malibu was the closest to Heaven he would ever get. I’d say he’s right.

Finally I reach the edge of the wet sand. I shrug out of the cover-up and toss it and the towel back a few feet before walking right into the water up to my chest. It's chilly, not unbearably so, but it is quite a jolt. I dip my head back, taking care of the unruly mane. 

I look back at the house. Daniel is going inside. Maybe he changed his mind about joining me. I smile until I see him come back out, something in his hand. 

His gun. 

He is looking to my right, and I see them. Two people, one holding something that is bundled up.

I don't have my gun. I don’t have anything.

Bloody hell, Peggy, you should know better! I've become too complacent here, in paradise with my new husband. What made me think the outside world would not follow?

I take a quick look back at Daniel and he is struggling through the sand with his crutch.

The people are getting closer. I decide to face it head-on and step out of the water. Even in the sand, I can take on anyone.

The man is wearing a fedora and sunglasses, so I can't see a face. The woman has short black hair, and she is carrying the bundle. 

They are just a few hundred feet from me. Suddenly I recognize the woman, her hair at least two feet shorter than I last saw her. The man says something to her, and she uncovers the top of the bundle. Then the man takes off his hat and sunglasses.

“Stop right where you are,” Daniel says, yelling but his voice is barely audible over the crashing waves. He is still several hundred feet away from us but his gun is trained on them.

“Daniel! It’s okay, I know them! They're safe!”

He keeps approaching me. Slowly, he lowers his gun but his posture still is threatening.

I motion to the man, then look at Daniel. “This is Michael, my brother. And his wife and son.”

\-----------------

Peggy tells Michael and Ruth to have a seat in the living room, then heads up the stairs to change. I follow her, ignoring the pain in my thigh. She’s partially closed the bedroom door, and I have to open it, though just enough for me to see inside.

“I don't like this, Peg,” I say, my voice hushed.

She already has the bathing suit off and is digging around in her suitcase. I want to admire the view but instead I look down into the living room. Michael and Ruth are seated on the couch, the boy on her lap.

“He's my brother.” 

“Who pulled a gun on you.”

“That was more than a year ago.” She pulls on panties, then a pair of navy blue slacks.

“It's been that long since Dottie’s held a gun on you,” I say, my tone biting. “You'd let bygones be bygones with her?”

“That's entirely different, Daniel, and you know it.”

I look down into the living room. “I don't see it that way.”

“Obviously. And quit looking down there. He’ll think we don't trust him.”

“He'd be right for one of us.”

She fastens her brassiere and slips on a green blouse, working the buttons quickly.

“Do you honestly believe that he would bring his wife and child here if he were planning to kill someone?”

“If that really is his wife and kid.” I look down into the living room again. When I look back, Peggy is glaring at me.

“Why are you so suspicious, Daniel?”

“Why are you so trusting, Peggy?”

She huffs. “I am not doing this with you.”

“Doing what? Listening to reason? You know you can’t be rational when it involves him.”

“And you can?”

“He’s not my brother.”

“But I’m your wife, and we all know you’re perfectly rational when it comes to me.”

It’s my turn to huff. “Come on, Peg. That’s different.”

“Is it?”

She opens the door and brushes past me but I grab her arm. She looks at my hand, then at my face. I can’t remember seeing her this mad but I’m not letting up.

“Daniel, I know what I am doing.” 

“Do you?”

She stares at me, her jaw set. I stare back. Reluctantly, I let go of her arm and she is down the stairs in seconds. I follow slowly, my leg profusely protesting.

“I'm sorry,” Peggy says to the woman. “I don't even know your name.”

“It's Ruth. And this is James. Jimmy.”

Ruth and Michael still are sitting on the couch. Peggy takes one of the plush chairs. I stand next to her, on alert, my gun still at my side. I don't care if this guy is her brother. He hurt Peggy, not physically but emotionally, scarring her far deeper than any bullet or knife wound has. For that, he is public enemy number one in my book.

I stare at him. “How did you find us?” Wait a minute. “Never mind. You followed us.” I look at Ruth. “I saw you drive by our house yesterday.”

Ruth nods. “We had been waiting outside your house for a few days.”

“We were hoping to somehow contact you,” Michael says. “We saw you outside the door, carrying Peg over the threshold.” He smirks. “So you married my sister. Brave man.”

I don't take the bait.

“Michael,” Peggy says, “where have you been? Why did you wait so long to contact me?”

“After a few months, they figured out that I was getting my memory back. By then I had almost all of it back. We’ve been on the run ever since. I had to make sure Ruth and Jimmy were safe, and the only way to do that was to go into hiding with them.”

“Wait,” I say. “How did you know about our house?” 

“I…” Michael runs a hand through his hair. “Before I took off, I was able to look at the file HYDRA has on Peggy.”

Peggy’s eyebrows shoot up. “There’s a file on me?”

“There’s a file on you, on him,” he says, pointing to me, “on everyone in the SSR. Hell, everyone in the federal government. You’re being watched, Peg. I don’t know why. I never got an explanation, but you’re on their radar.”

I know why. Peggy has been the driving force behind rooting out HYDRA operatives for the past year. They would want nothing more than to stop her. 

Michael looks at Peggy. “Remember when I said I didn’t want SSR help? There’s a reason. The SSR is crawling with HYDRA.”

“We’ve uncovered any infiltrators,” Peggy says. “The SSR is safe now.”

He laughs. “Peggy, for being a top spy, you certainly are naive. You have no idea how deep these people are buried. People you would never think would be HYDRA. Guess what? They are.”

Peggy looks at me. We knew this, deep down. We just didn’t want to admit it. We truly cannot trust anyone.

Looking back at her brother, Peggy leans forward. “Why are you here then? You know who I work for.”

“We need a safe place. This is no way for a young child to live, on the run, moving every few weeks or sleeping in the car. It isn’t fair to my wife or my son to pay for my mistakes. I took a huge chance contacting you, knowing they are watching you, and I’m putting you in danger by doing this, but I had to.” He brushes his hand over his son’s hair. “For them.”

“We didn’t know where else to turn,” Ruth says. “Jimmy has been sick a lot lately, just colds I think, but…”

Michael looks at his sister, his eyes imploring. “I’ll tell you everything I know about HYDRA. But I need you to help us, Peg. Please.”

Peggy tilts her head and I can see the tears welling in her eyes. I already know what her answer will be without her speaking. 

We’re going to help them, no matter what.


	5. Chapter 5

“What are you thinking, Peggy?”

Daniel and I are in the kitchen, barely out of earshot of Michael and his family.

“I don’t want it to be, but I think the only answer is Howard.”

“Seems logical. Why are you hesitant?”

I can't tell him the real reason, so instead I say, “I try to refrain from endangering my friends whenever possible. I don’t like it but we have no choice. We can’t go to the SSR or use any of our safe houses. We need a safe, secure place to take them.” I sigh. “I’ll talk to Howard.”

There are telephones on both floors of the beach house, and for obvious reasons, I choose the upstairs phone to make my call. Daniel chooses to remain downstairs, ‘to keep an eye on things.’ More like to keep an eye on Michael.

Daniel has no idea why I don’t want to take them to Howard’s. It has little to do with endangering them, as I know they are capable of taking care of themselves, not to mention the increased security Mr. Jarvis has installed. It has nothing to do with owing Howard, which we do, so much. It has nothing to do with Michael. It has everything to do with Jimmy. My husband doesn’t know what I know about Ana Jarvis. It’s unfair, cruel even, to take a child into that house, knowing her situation. I hope they can forgive me.

“Stark residence,” the familiar voice says.

I clear my throat, put on my happy voice. “Good afternoon, Mr. Jarvis. Is Howard around?”

“He is, Miss… uh, Mrs. Sousa, though he is,” he says, pausing, “ _auditioning_ an actress at the pool.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. “Could you interrupt him, please? I have an urgent matter to discuss with him.”

“I do believe you should be on your honeymoon.”

“Something, or I should say someone, came up. Michael.”

“Oh my,” Mr. Jarvis says, his voice now sharp. “I'll get Mr. Stark immediately.”

As I wait, I think what happened between Daniel and I. Married barely twenty-four hours and we had a doozy of a fight. I understand his hesitation to trust Michael; he is former HYDRA, after all. However, he does not understand who my brother is deep down. I know the real Michael, better than anyone alive. Brainwashing can remove some of it, but it never can fully remove the real person. I wish Daniel would believe me on this. His lack of trust is disconcerting, to say the least.

“Peg, I thought you were supposed to be on your honeymoon.”

I roll my eyes at Howard’s comment. “I am but something has happened.”

“Jarvis says it has to do with your brother,” he says, his voice low, conveying concern.

“Yes, he has contacted me. He needs protection, as well as a safe place to stay.”

“You Feds don't have any safe houses?”

“We can't trust the SSR, or any government entity at this point.”

He hesitates. “So you want to stash him here?”

“Him and his wife and child.” I cringe, waiting for him to yell about how he's not running a hotel for fugitives.

“I know you wouldn't be asking if it weren't important,” he says instead.

I keep my tone steady. “You're right, Howard. I don’t want to impose any more than I already have, but I’m not sure where else to turn.”

He hesitates again. “Well, they can stay here but you'll need to find some help. The Jarvises and I are headed back to New York tomorrow. I need to oversee the bunker’s completion.”

“Is there any chance the Jarvises can stay here in California? I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an emergency. You've already done so much for Daniel and I, but--”

“You know I’d do anything for you, Peg, but I need them in New York.”

“Howard. Please. You know I don't beg. I'm begging right now. I need people I trust to keep an eye on them. The SSR is compromised, you know that, and it may be worse than any of us thought.”

He lets loose with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. I'll rough it for you in New York. Only for you, Peggy.”

I smirk. “Yes, roughing it with two less servants is such a hardship for you.”

“You’re welcome, and you owe me. I’ll have Jarvis prepare a room.”

“Thank you, Howard. Truly. Could you put Mr. Jarvis back on the phone?”

“Sure,” he says, then yells, “Jarvis!”

In mere seconds, I hear, “Yes, Mrs. Sousa?”

“Mr. Jarvis, I just want to let you know that this was a last resort and I apologize for the inconvenience and… and…”

“Is there something wrong?”

With a sigh, I say, “Michael and his family will be staying at the house. Howard is allowing you to stay in California as well, if you so choose.”

“Oh,” he says. “We might just do that. It would make Ana happy. California has quite grown on her.”

I close my eyes, not wanting to continue. “Your house guests will be Michael, his wife… and his young son.”

He is silent, and the longer it goes on, the worse I feel.

“I see,” he finally says. “I understand your hesitation, and I do appreciate your concern.”

“I am so sorry, Mr. Jarvis. If it weren't so urgent, I wouldn’t think to--”

“Miss… Mrs. Sousa, it's quite all right. It has been a year, and my wife and I have come to terms with our future. That does not mean the Stark household should be vacant of the joy and laughter of children.” He pauses. “Ana told me just yesterday that she was looking forward to the day you would bring your children to one of the Stark homes.”

I smile at the thought. “She has a while before that happens.”

“Then this will tide her over.”

I breathe out a heavy sigh. “Ana is very lucky to have you, Mr. Jarvis.”

“I rather think it is the other way around, Mrs. Sousa. We shall see you soon.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

I hang up the phone and run a hand over my face, relief flooding my entire body.

“Peggy?”

I look up at the sound of Daniel’s voice. He is standing in the doorway.

“Howard has agreed to let them stay,” I say.

“We should get going then.”

“Right. I will ride with Michael and--”

Daniel puts up a hand. “Whoa, whoa. We’re going in one car, mine.”

“Daniel, they have their own car. Their belongings are there.”

“We will come back later and pick it up,” he says, adamant.

“No, you take Ruth and Jimmy, and I--”

“Peggy, I won't allow it.”

I feel as if he slapped me in the face. “Really? I don't recall you being in charge of me, either at work or at home.”

“It’s not an order, it's standard operating procedure. You don't split up agents with multiple suspects.”

“Yes, I read the manual as well,” I bite out. “It also says that you can split up agents when absolutely necessary. This is absolutely necessary.”

“No, it isn’t,” he says, not backing down. “You can interrogate him later, after we get to Stark’s.”

“I can talk to him now, Daniel. Alone. He's not going to open up about HYDRA and what he has done in front of his wife, and certainly not in front of someone who has made it abundantly clear that he doesn't trust him.”

“He’s HYDRA, Peggy.”

“ _Former_ HYDRA,” I say, “and he has extremely valuable information about the organization. He’s willing to share that information right now. We have to jump on that before he changes his mind.”

He doesn’t flinch and neither do I. Long gone is the Daniel who wouldn’t look me in the eye when there is conflict.

“He will be driving and I will be armed,” I say.

“We know he’s a master at making crashes look like accidents. He could run the car off the road, with you in it.”

“And kill himself as well? Yes, that makes perfect sense.” I sigh and shake my head. “I’m not fighting with you on this. You will take Ruth and Jimmy. I will ride with Michael. He’s not going to do anything if you have his wife and child.”

“Peggy…”

“I’m not budging, Daniel.”

He sets his jaw, making it very clear he is not happy. “I don’t like this…”

“So you’ve said, several times.”

“...but we’ll do it your way. You lead. We’ll be on your tail at all times. I’m writing down in his car and license plate information first, just in case I need to issue an APB.”

“You won’t need to, but fine,” I say. “If it will make you feel better.”

“It will.”

I walk past him and down the stairs, and I hear him follow. His gait is much slower than normal. He’s still in pain. I wish I could tell him to stay, that I could call Mr. Jarvis to help, but that would just start another fight.

As I walk into the living room, Jimmy starts coughing. It’s a long, gurgling hack, and when it finally ends, he is crying. Ruth rubs his back, trying to soothe him. Now I know why they are so concerned.

“We have a safe place to take you. No SSR, no government.”

Michael tilts his head. “Howard Stark?”

I look at Daniel, then back to Michael. “How did you know that?”

“I told you, I read your file. Stark is a known acquaintance of yours. I’m not sure that’s the best solution, Peggy.”

“His house is secure, more secure than you would be at any safe house.” I shrug. “I’m sorry, Michael, it’s the only solution I have.”

Michael looks at Ruth, then back to me. “All right. As long as these two are safe.”

“They will be. Michael, you will drive with me. Daniel will take Ruth and Jimmy.”

Ruth’s eyes go wide and her shoulders rise. “I… I don’t like that idea. Why are you separating us?”

Michael meets my gaze, then puts an arm around her. “It’s okay, honey. Peggy wants to talk to me about HYDRA. You and Jimmy shouldn’t hear some of this. Most of this, actually.”

“Your husband and my wife will be right in front of us,” Daniel says, his voice soothing. “We’ll be able to see them the entire way. It’s not a long drive, maybe thirty minutes.”

Ruth looks up at her husband, and he nods.

“He’s my brother, Ruth,” I say, giving her a small smile. “I’m not going to hurt him. And you’re safe with Daniel. I trust him more than anyone on Earth. ” I feel Daniel’s hand on my arm. I put my hand over his, letting him know I mean it, no matter what.

“I still don’t like it,” Ruth says, “but if that’s what we have to do.”

I nod. “Then let’s get on the road.”


	6. Chapter 6

“We’ll meet you there,” I hear Michael say to his wife, who is sitting in Daniel's car.

I am in the passenger side of Michael’s car, which is parked in front of Daniel’s. The back of the car is filled with clothes, a bassinet, toys and a few boxes. So few belongings for a family of three. 

I look out the back windshield and see Michael approaching, and Daniel standing at the driver’s side of his car, watching Michael’s every step.

“Your husband doesn’t like me,” Michael says with his telltale smirk as he gets in the car.

“He’s… concerned. Your track record isn’t exactly stellar.”

He starts the car and puts it in drive. “I assume you told him what happened in Arizona.”

“He was in Arizona with me, and yes, he knows, hence his concern. I told him he had nothing to worry about.” I look at Michael and he meets my gaze.

“I think I’ve hurt you enough, Peggy. I’m not doing it again.”

I nod, hoping he means it.

“So, everything you ever wanted to know about HYDRA,” he says. “Just realize I've been out for about nine months. Everything I say could be old news.”

“I understand.”

He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “You know they're in the States, both coasts.”

“We've put a dent in their east coast operations,” I say, “but haven't done well here. Do they have a base here?”

He nods. “Fledgling, though it might be bigger now. There's a facility south of San Diego. It's a gem mining operation, much of it underground. After the owner sold it, he mysteriously disappeared, so no one knows there’s nothing left to mine. Since they're dealing with gems, having visible security isn't suspicious. It's the perfect cover.” He shrugs. “If they're still there.”

“Who is in charge of the operation?”

“I have no idea. I'm just a lackey. We're told just enough to get whatever job they give us done.”

“Did you have a handler?”

“Several,” he says. “It varied between half a dozen people. Maybe they didn’t want us getting too close to one person.”

“Do you think with you going rogue, they would fold up operations here?”

He grins. “Rogue. I like that.”

I shoot him a wry glance.

“No,” he continues with a laugh, “I doubt they would leave that facility for me.”

“But you know their secrets.”

“Not nearly all of them. And they don't know that I was snooping around before I disappeared. I shouldn’t even know about the gem operation. I'm just some experiment gone wrong. The proverbial gnat buzzing around their heads.”

“What about the work you did on the rift generator?”

He looks at me. “The what?”

“On the gunnery range in Arizona.”

“I had no idea what we were working on,” he says, shaking his head. “We got some plans and were told to follow them. None of us, except maybe Masters, knew what it was.”

“Then why are they after you?”

“Because I'm HYDRA property,” he says with a bitter smile. “They don't like their belongings getting into the wrong hands. It's bad for business.”

I pause, asking the question to which I most want an answer. “Why did you shoot Jack Thompson?”

He takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “To be perfectly honest, Peggy, I don’t remember why. I just remember hearing the words and then going to the hotel, pulling the trigger, taking the file. I don’t know that I ever saw his face…”

My eyebrows rise. “Wait, what words?”

“I can’t remember,” he says, glancing at me briefly. “I think they’re Russian. Someone says them, I go into a trance. That’s the best explanation I have. Ruth has helped me with some of this, trying to remember.”

Trigger words. I was right; he was brainwashed.

“The pages missing from the file,” I say. “Why did you remove them?”

He shakes his head. “I'm sorry, Pegleg. My memory is like Swiss cheese. I don’t remember.”

“If you saw the file again, do you think it would trigger your memory?”

“It might. Do you have it?”

“Yes. I’ll bring it to you.” I look at him. “If HYDRA finds you, would they…?” I let my words trail off but he picks up on it immediately.

“Would they kill me? Most likely, once they found out I'm defective.”

“You’re what?”

“My quote-unquote programming is faulty,” he says. “As far as I know, no one has had a second treatment. If something happens with a subject, they're simply terminated.”

I cringe. “I'm afraid to ask what the treatment is.”

“I don't remember the full extent but I remember bits and pieces. Brainwashing, electro-shock therapy, sensory deprivation. Intense conditioning that we are a part of a revolution, that what we are doing is crucial to the very existence of humanity. Everything we do brings us that much closer to our goal of an orderly world.”

I let his words percolate. Not so far off from Schmidt’s new world order propaganda during the war.

“How many were there like you, Michael?”

“I don't know for sure. Ruth said she knew of at least a dozen, but her access was limited.” He shakes his head. “Like I said, I can't remember entire events, just fragments. Sometimes I wake up and remember something. Then I think, ‘Did that really happen?’ From the time I was captured until a year ago, I barely know what is real.”

I give him directions for the turnoff for Howard’s house, then turn around. Daniel is on our tail, so close that if Michael put on the brakes, he would crash into us. I give him a nod but I’m not sure he sees it.

“Anything else about the west coast operations?”

“There was talk of moving into Mexico,” he says, shooting a quick glance at me. “The government there is more… accommodating. You pay a tithing, they leave you alone.”

“Sounds like HYDRA’s normal modus operandi.”

“They may be there by now, or they may have decided against it.” He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

We drive in silence as I process what he has said. HYDRA in my own backyard and I had no idea. We were so concerned with the infiltration of the federal government that we let the cancer grow right here, under our noses. Thank goodness for Michael. Now my team and I can take care of it.

He looks over at me. “Sorry to ruin your honeymoon.”

“No, it’s fine. Daniel and I are used to interruptions in our relationship.”

“Is he SSR as well?”

“That’s how we met.” I want to keep Michael talking about himself. I still have so many questions that need answers. “How did you and Ruth meet?”

His lips curl into a soft smile. “Ruth was a nurse, one who was assigned to me. She cleaned me up after some of the worst treatments. She was supposed to be neutral but,” he says, grinning, “I guess my charms got the better of her.”

I bite back a smile of my own. “She looks so young.”

“Are you suggesting I'm robbing the cradle?”

This time I do smile. “You always did flock to the pretty young things.”

“She’s not that young, just turned twenty-two. She has no formal training as a nurse, just what she picked up at the facility. Her mother was killed in the war, and her father was one of Schmidt’s henchmen.”

“Was?”

“He was killed by Captain America.”

My breath hitches. Steve killed her father.

Michael notices my distress. “Don't feel bad for him, Peggy. His death is the best thing that happened to Ruth. He was a nasty bastard who beat her on a regular basis. He also,” he pauses and sighs, “loaned her out to some of his friends.”

“Loaned her out?”

He glances at me, pain stretching his features. “Sexually.”

“She was a child!” Bile rises in my throat. “Dear God. That explains why she is so untrusting.”

“We work well together,” he says with a sad smile. “She and I are damaged beyond recognition.”

“That’s not true, Michael. I recognize the man you were.”

Michael pulls the car into the round driveway of Howard’s house. “Physically, yes. But mentally, Peggy? Not even close.”

\------------

Jarvis and his wife are standing outside the door as we all exit our vehicles. My shoulders are tense and I crack my neck. That may have been the longest thirty minutes of my life. I'm glad Ruth was silent for the entire drive, as I was concentrating on watching Peggy. Watching her mannerisms, her expressions when she turned to look at Michael. Watching for any warning signs.

She doesn't wait for me to catch up before she and Michael enter Stark’s house, with Jarvis not far behind. Guess I can't blame her. I did come on pretty strong, stopping short of forbidding her from riding with him. I've been protective of her from the beginning, but something about her brother puts me on edge, and it just isn't because he's HYDRA and because he hurt her so deeply. Something about him seems… off. The same with Ruth. The only one who seems normal is Jimmy. His health is in question, though; he had another coughing fit in the car.

“Chief Sousa,” Ana Jarvis says in her normal happy voice.

I motion to Ruth. “Ana Jarvis, this is Michael’s wife, Ruth. And their son, Jimmy.”

Ana smiles. “Welcome, Ruth. And welcome to you, Jimmy.” She touches his hand, and he grabs onto her thumb. Her smile widens. “Aren’t you a little sweetheart?” 

We enter the house, and I see Jarvis smiling at his wife. He looks at Peggy and says something, and she smiles as well.

Jarvis turns to his wife. “Mrs. Jarvis, would you mind showing our guests their suite?”

“Of course, dear,” she says, motioning to Michael, Ruth and Peggy to follow.

I stay back with Jarvis. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Of course, Chief Sousa. I’m afraid Ana went shopping as soon as I told her about our house guests. We now have a crib, stroller and enough toys for an army of young boys.”

“I’m sure they will appreciate it,” I say with a nod.

“Mr. Stark informed me of the need for heightened security, so he has arranged for additional private surveillance.”

“I don’t know if that’s wise, Jarvis. This needs to be on the down-low.”

“Mr. Stark is aware of that and...” He pauses, then says, “the threat of certain outside forces. He has solicited the services of Joseph Manfredi’s men.”

I sigh. “Manfredi? Jesus.” First HYDRA, now mobsters. Just what I need. Though I do see Stark’s point. There’s little chance Manfredi and his goons are hanging out with HYDRA.

“Mrs. Sousa’s brother and family will be safe here.” He clears his throat. “As will Mrs. Jarvis and I.”

I look at him, surprised.

“I am well aware of Mr. Carter’s talents with a gun,” he continues. “I was on the receiving end of that, as well as his skills in hand-to-hand combat. Mrs. Jarvis and I are well prepared.”

“Glad to hear I’m not the only one who doesn’t trust him.” I twirl the ring on my finger. It's a simple white gold band but it symbolizes the world to me.

“Is everything alright, Chief Sousa?”

I look at him and put on a fake smile. “Yes, everything is fine.”

I hear footsteps, then Ana Jarvis’s voice: “And there is a kitchenette here that is fully stocked. If there is anything you need, just ask.”

Rounding the corner is Ana, followed by Michael, Ruth with Jimmy, and Peggy, and they and Jarvis head to the sitting room. I catch Peggy’s attention, and she approaches.

“Peggy, I am going to head back to the beach house, get our things and take them home.”

She looks at me, nods tersely, then opens her mouth to say something but decides against it.

“Call me when you're done,” I say, “and I'll come get you.”

“No, I'll borrow one of Howard’s cars. I won't be long. I just want make sure they get settled, and to talk to Mr. Jarvis about security.”

I already know he has it under control but I don't say so. She needs time to process everything, and she needs it without me. I could use some time myself.

I start to turn toward the door but stop. I have to know. “Peggy, are we okay?”

She gives me a small smile. “Of course we are, Daniel.” With that, she goes to the sitting room.

I take one last look at Peggy as she walks away before I exit the house. Why am I not convinced by her words?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahoy, mateys: Thar be smut ahead.

I unlock the front door and step inside. The living room is dimly lit, but I can see the glow from the office light. I take a deep breath and walk through the living room. It’s been a long, emotional day. I want nothing more than to soak in a hot bath and go to bed. However, that’s not going to happen yet. We need to clear the air, sooner rather than later.

Daniel is sitting at the desk, file folders strewn around him. His prosthetic must be off, as I can see the pant leg tucked into his belt.

He looks up and smiles. “Hi.”

“Hi. You’re working?”

“Just busywork that I’ve been putting off.”

I walk into the room and sit on the edge of the desk, next to his chair. We look at each other for several seconds. I see hurt in his eyes, probably not unlike what is in mine. We hurt each other with words, and those are the weapons that can do the most damage.

“I’m sorry I said…”  
“I’m sorry for telling…”

We both stop and smile.

“Ladies first,” he says.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you about Michael. I didn’t… I don’t trust him one-hundred percent, but I couldn’t act that way. I know he’s not the same man I grew up with, but I wanted him to trust me.”

“You could have told me that instead of making me think it was Arizona all over again.”

“I didn’t make you think anything,” I say, perhaps a bit too sharply. I dial it back. “You thought that on your own, Daniel. I didn't think it was that important to tell you. I'd hoped you would trust me.”

“How could that not be important? You have a blind spot when it comes to him, and I thought you were playing right into that.”

“I wasn't, but even if I was… I’m not some innocent flower that needs sheltering from the sun.”

His eyes narrow and his lips stretch into a straight line. It takes me a few seconds to realize what I've said. A flower. Violet.

“I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that I don't need protecting.”

“Sometimes you do, Peg. Sometimes you need protecting from yourself, when you go off half-cocked…”

“Half-cocked?!”

“...without thinking first.”

“I _always_ think about what I am doing.”

“But you don't always think about the consequences, especially for yourself.”

I bite my bottom lip to keep control. “My job is not to think about myself. My job is to think of the safety of others.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You can’t protect others if you don’t look out for yourself first.” He reaches out for my hand. “I love you, Peggy. I worry about you. That’s why I was acting like the overbearing husband, telling you I wouldn't allow you to ride with him. I apologize for that. My only excuse is that I was worried because he’s your brother, and I thought your judgment was compromised.”

“You thought I had gone off half-cocked,” I say, without venom but still with a bite.

He shrugs. “Maybe. I should have trusted that you knew what you were doing.”

“I did, and he gave me the most valuable information we’ve ever received about HYDRA.” I give him a synopsis of what Michael told me, leaving out the information about Ruth and her past.

“Wow. Well, we figured there was some kind of cell on the west coast. Didn’t realize it was so close to us, if it’s still there.”

“I believe him when he says he was just a lackey. It’s a good possibility that they are still in San Diego. We’ll check into it.”

“In the meantime,” he says, “we still need to work on our communication skills. We're better than we were a year ago…”

“...but we can do better.”

He nods and his thumb runs a line over my hand, back and forth. It's something he's been doing more often, and I doubt he realizes he's doing it. It's comforting, for both of us.

I reach for his other hand. “Even though I haven't said it, it's nice to know that you are watching out for me.”

“I haven’t changed the way I treat you, Peg. I’ve been watching out for you for a long time.”

“I know,” I say, smiling. “Ever since you told Agent Krzeminski, God rest his soul, to apologize for his comment about my virtue.”

His eyes widen. “You remember that?”

“It wasn’t that long ago, Daniel. And yes, I remember it very clearly.”

“You bit my head off,” he says with a grin. 

“I did not! I asked you not to intervene for me again. I was capable of taking care of myself then, and I still am.”

“I know that, but it doesn't hurt to have a second pair of eyes keeping watch. I didn't want you to get hurt by your brother again. The last time, in Arizona… Peg, I've never seen you like that before.”

He's right. I was so devastated, I could barely speak. But that was a year ago. I've had time to think, to process what happened. I have forgiven Michael, but I have not forgotten. I’m not sure I ever can.

“Daniel, you can't shield me from heartache and disappointment, and you certainly can’t be expected to protect me from myself all the time.”

“I can sure try.”

“It's not your job.”

He gives me a wry smile. “I’m pretty sure it’s in the husband job description.”

“No, it’s not,” I say, moving to stand right in front of his chair. “Your job is to be by my side, to help me up when I fall, brush me off,” I pause, running a hand from his neck down the buttons of his shirt, “then kiss me senseless and take me to bed.”

“I can do that.” He hoists himself out of the chair, then leans his hands on the desk behind me. 

“I know. You're rather good at it, especially the last two.”

His lips caress my neck. “What was that first one?”

“Stand by my side?”

A kiss near my ear that makes me shiver. “No, the one I'm rather good at.”

“Kissing me senseless?”

“That's the one.” His mouth covers mine, and he does just that: he uses his lips and tongue so thoroughly, so skillfully, that I almost forget where we are and what we were talking about.

Breathing becomes necessary, so we separate our lips.

“Yes, you are more than ‘rather good’ at that,” I say once I catch my breath. “Expert level I would say.”

“Give me five minutes to finish up here and I'll show you just how much of an expert I am at the other one.”

I can’t help but shiver again at the deepness of his voice and darkness in his eyes. 

“I love you, Daniel. Even when we fight, and knowing how stubborn both of us are, this won't be our last… I love you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” he says, his fingers brushing over my cheek. “I love you, too, Peg. No matter what. Now let me finish my work so I can commit acts of debauchery with my wife.”

I smile as I leave the comfort of his arms and step out of the room. Thankfully, the honeymoon is not over.

\----------

I sit on the edge of the bed, looking toward the bathroom. The light is on and I hear the clinking of something being placed on the countertop. 

The bathroom light shuts off and Peggy steps in the doorway. 

She stops short but quickly smiles. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

I should answer her but I can’t. She’s wearing the blue nightie from last night. It’s still sexy. It’s still sheer. It’s still not going to spend much time on her body.

She smiles and walks toward the bed, stopping right in front of me. I reach out for her hands and pull her close, and she stands between my legs. I release her hands and mine go directly to her hips.

“I didn’t a chance to look at the… fine craftsmanship of this garment,” I say, feeling the fabric between my fingers. I look up at her and smile.

She smiles back. “It’s quite nice. Soft.”

I lift the nightie to reveal her stomach and my lips brush over the creamy skin. “Almost as soft as your skin.” 

She reaches out, her hands going to my shoulders to steady herself. I keep it slow, kissing my way across her stomach, then I lower the fabric and run my hands down her legs and back up.

“Is this your idea of debauchery?”

I look up at her. “Disappointed?”

“Not disappointed, but just for the record, this is not debauchery.” She roughly pushes my shoulders and my back hits the mattress. “ _This_ is debauchery.” She climbs on top of me and immediately starts on the buttons of my shirt, making quick progress and pushing the shirt open. Her hands go beneath my undershirt, her fingernails scraping down my chest.

“I have my own way of doing things,” I say, grabbing her hands and rolling her over, pinning her arms above her head.

She laughs but it quickly transforms into a moan as my mouth attacks her neck. She’s expecting fast and rough. That’s not going to happen. Too much in our lives is at top speed. Not this. Not right now. I slow it down, covering every inch of her neck with open-mouth kisses.

“Perhaps debauchery was the wrong word,” I say against the skin above her left breast. “Maybe revere.” I pull the fabric of the nightie down and kiss the top of her breast. “Or cherish.” Another kiss, a little lower. “Or treasure.” 

She sighs. “You're a veritable thesaurus, Daniel.” Despite the weight of my body on hers, she pushes up enough to pull the nightie over her head and flings it across the room. “Enough talk.”

I want to keep it slow but seeing her almost naked under me is too much. My lips wrap around her breast, teeth tugging at the darkened skin at the center. Her moan goes straight down my body. I sit up, pulling my shirt off, and her hands are on me, yanking at the undershirt.

“You're overdressed,” she says, fingers pushing the cloth up and over my head. Once the undershirt is gone, she lifts her head and nips at my shoulder.

“I was trying to go slow.” Which is a lie at this point, since I'm fumbling as fast as I can to get my belt undone.

“Slow is overrated,” she says before running her hands over my chest, down, down until she cups me through the trousers. “You promised to commit acts of debauchery with your wife. Here I am, Daniel. Debauch me.”

And slow is officially off the table now. She works on the hook and zipper of my trousers as I roughly pull the bloomers off of her. Using her elbows, she works her way up the bed. I follow, nipping at and kissing her body as she goes. She pulls down my remaining clothing and holds me in her hand. God, the sight of that small hand, bright red fingernails shining, wrapped around me, does me in every time. I kick off the underwear and drag myself up her body, settling my left leg between hers.

I hear “Daniel” whispered against my ear and that's all I need. I rub myself against her, sighing as I feel that she is ready for me. I slip inside her, a little at first. Her hands grab my ass and pull me closer, pushing me in all the way.

This is everything to me. This is home.

She fidgets, obviously impatient. I pull out, slowly push in. Then again. She still wriggles, then we’re turning, and all of a sudden, she’s on top of me. 

“Debauchery, Daniel,” she says, starting a brutally fast rhythm.

I'm not in my right mind anymore. I'm all about release, hers and mine. I plant my left leg on the bed and thrust up, meeting her thrust down. She gasps. I do it again, and my fingers find their way between us, starting my own fast rhythm on that bundle of nerves. 

“Daniel…”

The way she says my name, that breathy declaration as she moves up and down, is my complete undoing. I feel her clenching around me and know it's okay to let go. Absently, I keep stroking her and she keeps moving, both of us knowing we are bringing each other over that edge together.

She collapses against me with a sigh. My hands smooth over her back, slick with sweat. 

“I think there was some mutual debauchery going on,” I say, then smile as I feel her breathy laugh against my neck.

“I’m sorry to ruin your slow seduction.”

“I’m not.” I kiss the top of her head. “Sometimes slow works. Sometimes debauchery works.”

She hums her approval against my skin, adding a soft kiss.

We both groan as the phone rings. 

“That bloody telephone has it out for us,” Peggy says, sighing as she raises herself up and off of me.

She grabs my dress shirt, slipping it on and shooting me a smile over her shoulder. The view is quite nice as she leaves the bedroom.

I hear her say, “Hello?”

I’m trying to stay awake but the woman I love has a habit of wearing me out.

“Wait, wait. Mr. Jarvis, slow down,” she says.

My eyes snap open. Now I’m on alert, getting up and putting on my underwear. 

“Are you sure he’s not coming back?”

This doesn’t sound good. I grab my crutch and hobble to the bedroom doorway.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

She hangs up the phone and turns around, shocked to see me.

“Michael took off,” she says, running a hand through her hair.

“What do you mean, ‘took off’?”

“He left, taking the car. Ruth is in hysterics, said he told her he wasn’t coming back. They can’t get anything else out of her.”

The pain in her face makes me want to hold her, but I know that’s not the response she wants. 

“Let’s get dressed and go.”

“Daniel--”

“When I said ‘for better or for worse,’ Peg, I meant it,” I take her hand. “Go get dressed. I’ll drive.”

Her only response is to squeeze my hand. That’s enough for me.


	8. Chapter 8

We arrive at Howard’s and the front door immediately opens, revealing Mr. Jarvis. I am barely out of the car before he starts talking.

“We called Mr. Stark’s doctor to tend to young James, which he did. Luckily he was still here and was able to sedate Mrs. Carter.”

“She’s sedated? I was hoping to talk to her.”

“That would not have been possible,” Mr. Jarvis says. “She was inconsolable, and not terribly coherent.”

That is understandable, considering Michael is the best thing to happen to her and he just walked out on her.

Daniel and I enter the house, Mr. Jarvis right behind us. Ana is on the floor in the sitting room, playing with Jimmy. She looks up and nods to us, her smile strained.

“Mrs. Carter’s behavior was… disturbing, so my wife is taking care of him.”

Peggy nods. “Do we know what is wrong with him?”

“The doctor believes it is pertussis.”

“Whooping cough? That sounds serious,” Daniel says.

“The doctor is confident that the powder and vaporizer liquid he prescribed will help. Speaking of that, I need to go to the apothecary to fetch a vaporizer.”

“Go, Mr. Jarvis,” I say. “We will stay until you get back.”

He nods and leaves the room.

Ana meets my gaze. “I am very concerned about her. She was so upset, much more than one would think.”

“Ruth and Michael have a strong bond,” I say, “and they have had to depend on each other for almost a year. Losing him is bound to affect her deeply.” 

She nods, and I watch Daniel sit in a chair, then get on the floor to play with Jimmy. My lips curl into a smile as I watch the little boy gravitate to him, handing him a truck. The broad smile on Daniel’s face threatens to melt my heart. He looks at me and motions to the next room; he will watch Jimmy as Ana and I talk to Ruth, if we can.

Ana rises from the floor, and I follow her to the kitchenette. 

“The doctor has given her a sedative,” Ana says. “I requested it be mild because I knew you would want to talk to her. We will see if she is awake and coherent enough.”

“Good thinking. Thank you, Ana.”

We walk to the suite’s bedroom where Ruth is lying on the bed. Her eyes flutter open at the sound of us entering, and she looks at Ana.

“My behavior earlier, I apologize,” Ruth says as we approach the bed. Her words are slightly slurred and she looks as if just awakened from a deep sleep.

Ana smiles. “There is no need to apologize, dear. Your husband gave you very disturbing news.”

She nods, then turns her head to me. “You have to find him. Please.”

“That’s exactly what I plan to do,” I say. “Did you know that he was going to leave?”

She shakes her head.

“Start from the beginning, Ruth. What exactly did he say to you?”

“After the doctor saw Jimmy…” She stops and looks to Ana. “Is he okay? Did I upset him?”

Ana puts a hand on Ruth’s shoulder. “He is fine. Children are resilient. He is playing with Chief Sousa right now, happy and laughing.”

Ruth closes her eyes and sighs.

“Ruth,” I say, “what did Michael say to you?”

“He said that coming to you was the best thing for Jimmy and I.”

Best for them but not for himself. He was planning this all along. Damn you, Michael!

“Thought he needed to go somewhere and would come back, but he said he may not return.”

“Did he say why he was leaving? Where he was going?”

She shook her head. “He needed to get as far away from us as possible, to keep us safe.” Tears stream down her face behind closed eyes. “We’re safe here. All of us. Aren’t we?”

“Of course you are,” Ana says.

“Then why would he want to leave?”

I purse my lips. “I don’t know, Ruth, but I guarantee you that I will do everything I can to find him. And then I will kick his arse for scaring all of us.”

Ruth opens her eyes and gives me a sad smile. “So will I. Thank you.” Her gaze goes to Ana. “I can’t thank you enough. I understand if you want Jimmy and I to leave because--”

“Absolutely not,” Ana says immediately. “You and Jimmy are welcome here. You rest, dear. Peggy will find your husband and bring him home safely.”

I smile, hoping I can live up to Ana’s words.

Ruth's eyes are closed again and her heads lists to the side. Ana and I exit the suite and walk down the hall outside the sitting room. Ana stops short and puts up a hand. With her other hand, she points at Daniel, who has Jimmy sitting on his good thigh and is paging through a picture book with him. Neither of them sees us.

I look at Ana, smiling while trying to keep the tears from springing to my eyes. This is my future, our future. He will make the best father, I know it. I can see it right in front of my eyes, but I knew that before seeing him with Jimmy. He is the kindest, most understanding person I know. He loves with all his heart. He's a natural nurturer. If my skills as a mother would come even close to that, I would be happy. Normally I'm the most confident person in the room, but being a mother, and a good one at that? I don't know if I have it in me.

I snap out of my reverie when I hear the front door open and Mr. Jarvis appears, bogged down by several packages. I start to approach him.

“No, I've got it,” he says, placing some of the packages on the floor.

Ana takes Jimmy from Daniel, picking him up and heading toward the kitchen. “Let's get you all better, okay, young man?”

Mr. Jarvis follows Ana with some of the packages.

Daniel moves to stand next to me. “You okay?”

I didn't even notice the unshed tears in my eyes. “Yes, I'm fine. Just… worried about Jimmy. And Michael.”

His arm goes around me, and I feel his lips on my temple. I don't think he believes me but thankfully, he lets it go. I’m glad; I don’t have time to think about our future right now. I need to concentrate on finding my brother before he makes Ruth a widow.

\------------

“Ruth is devastated,” Peggy says as we pull out of Stark’s driveway. “I want to strangle Michael for doing this. What the bloody hell was he thinking?”

“Did she have any idea he was leaving?”

“No, she’s as shocked as we are. She doesn’t know where he went or why.”

I glance at her. Her lips are pursed, back ramrod-straight, fingers drumming on her leg. “I know that look, Peggy. What you are thinking?”

“Michael is going after HYDRA.”

I guess I shouldn’t be shocked by that but I am. “I thought Ruth didn’t know why he left.”

“She doesn't but it makes perfect sense. He’s been on the run for almost a year because of HYDRA. His son is sick because of it, and could have died if they hadn't come out of hiding. He wants to even the score.”

She has a point. The only way to truly keep his family safe is to end this once and for all.

“Guess he has that Carter half-cocked streak,” I say, glancing at her again.

Her eyes narrow. “Not amusing, Daniel.”

“I didn’t mean for it to be amusing. It’s true. You have a tendency to go off on your own to keep the ones you love safe. That’s exactly what he is doing.” 

“You have to bring that up again right now?” Her voice is tight, controlled in a way that tells me she's on the verge of being furious.

I reach over and take her hand. “That’s not why I said it, Peg. You two are a lot alike. You know how he thinks. Use that to your advantage. If it were you, what would you do?”

I look at her again in time to see her expression relax. “I would find out if the facility is still in San Diego. If not, then I’d head to Mexico. I’m concerned what the brainwashing has done to him, though. That’s an unknown, a large one. I’m assuming it makes him more aggressive, based on the way he was in Arizona. If that’s the case, and that facility is in San Diego, he won’t just observe and come back for help. He’ll destroy it on his own, and I don’t know that I can stop him by myself.” She bites her bottom lip. “I need a team.”

“Baxter and Greene are yours,” I say immediately.

“No, they’ve been my team for the past year. If HYDRA has a file on me, I guarantee there are files on them as well. I need new faces.”

“You’re known, more than they are, Peggy.”

“Then I’ll go in disguise,” she says with a shrug.

I know that her not going is not an option, so I don’t push it. “Okay, who do you want?”

“If I’m going to San Diego, and possibly Mexico, I want someone who speaks Spanish.”

We both say “Freeman” at the same time.

Neal Freeman is one of the hires I’m most proud of in the past year. He was an integral part of capturing both Dottie Underwood and Vernon Masters, and he’s my strategy guy. His instincts are second-to-none, having been a street cop and a homicide dick. He’s also been a good friend. With Peggy out of town so much the past year, I can always count on him being available to catch an Angels game when I have the time.

“And I want Rose,” Peggy says.

She hits me where it hurts again. Rose is the most valuable person in the LA office, more valuable than me. She’s the reason our office runs like a well-oiled machine. She's a field agent now, but I selfishly keep her close to the office whenever possible. She has been in the field a few times, smaller cases, and did an exceptional job. I wish all my agents had her attention to detail. She’s worked with Freeman on a case, so I know they work well together. Peggy knows it, too.

“So you want my two right-hand people.” And the two people I trust the most besides Peggy.

She shrugs and gives me a small smile. “I want the best.”

“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “Let’s head to the office. You can brief them.”

“Thank you.” 

I glance at her, eyebrow raised. “You owe me more than a ‘thank you’.”

“I’ll repay the debt upon my return,” she says with a mischievous smile.

I return the smile, then turn my attention back to the road. 

“You looked like you were having fun with Jimmy,” she says.

It takes me a few seconds to mentally shake off the sudden topic change. “Uh, yeah, he’s a good kid. Doesn’t seem affected by any of this. He’s smart, too. Knows the words for ‘truck’ and ‘book’. I'm no expert but that's sounds pretty good for as young as he is.”

I look over at her and she’s smiling, her eyes bright. “What?”

“You’ll make a wonderful father someday.”

“I don't know about that,” I say with a shrug. “Big difference between playing trucks with them and being responsible for them.”

“You will.”

“So will you, Peggy.”

“I think I'd make a terrible father.”

I shoot her a wry glance. “You know what I mean. You'll be a great mother.”

She smiles but it's not a happy one. “I wonder about that sometimes.”

“You shouldn't. I know you. I know your fierce loyalty, your compassion, your desire to protect the ones you love. You're a great teacher, have strong instincts and are always there to support those around you. All hallmarks of a top-notch mom.”

She reaches for my hand, bringing it to her lips and kissing my knuckles. “I don't know if I believe you, but thank you.”

“No need to thank me for stating the truth,” I say, squeezing her hand. “You sure I can’t talk you out of taking Neal and Rose? I’ll give you Baxter and Greene, and raise you Speaker.”

“No, it's not negotiable, Daniel.”

She laughs, the first honest-to-goodness laugh I've heard from her since her brother showed up. I knew she wouldn’t go for the deal. The only reason I said it was in hopes of hearing that laugh.

I worry about her going after Michael. She's right; his brainwashing is a big unknown. We know words trigger his conditioning to kick in but we don't know what words and spoken by whom, and if those words still work since his memory has returned. Far too many unknowns. Throw in the fact that he's a rogue ex-HYDRA operative with a vendetta and has no backup and presumably no plan, and my blood pressure skyrockets.

Marrying Peggy Carter is the best thing I've ever done. It's also the most stressful. I know in my heart, though, I wouldn't change it for the world.


	9. Chapter 9

Peggy and I walk into the bullpen to curious looks. The story to the agents was that they were on vacation for a few days. We head straight to my office, which is currently occupied.

Baxter is sitting at the desk, suddenly looking guilty. “Hey, Chief. Thought you weren’t coming back for a few days.”

“Something came up,” I say. “You can brief me later about what’s happened while I was gone.”

Baxter jumps up from the chair, taking the hint that he has been dismissed.

Rose enters the room as soon as Baxter leaves. “What are you two doing here? You’re supposed to be on…” She leans in to Peggy and whispers, “...your honeymoon.”

“As Daniel said, something came up,” Peggy says. “Something very important that I’ll need your help with. I also need Neal Freeman. Would you go find him and meet us in the conference room?”

Rose nods and leaves in search of Freeman. I start digging around in a pile to retrieve the atlas of California.

“I’ll meet you in the conference room,” Peggy says, her face tense. 

She starts to leave but I reach out to her, taking her hand. I break our self-imposed protocol and kiss her, a subdued kiss by our normal standards but hopefully it conveys its meaning: I am here for you.

She pulls back, a smile on her lips now. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“Anytime.” I squeeze her hand and let go, watching her walk out to her desk.

Atlas and pad of paper in hand, I walk into the conference room where Rose and Freeman already are seated.

“Hey, Chief,” Freeman says, “long time, so see. You missed a good game yesterday. The Angels won in extra innings. I took Gina with me. She’s not much into baseball but she was a good sport about it.” Freeman smiles. “She might be a keeper.”

I return the smile. “You’ll have to tell me about the game later. The reason why you and Rose are here is that we have an urgent case of sorts.” I see her enter the conference room and close the door behind her. “I’ll let Peggy fill you in.”

“We’re searching for someone,” she says as soon as she sits down. “A former HYDRA operative.” She slides a faded, dog-eared photo toward Rose and Freeman. I've never seen this photo before. It must be why she went to her desk.

She continues. “This photo is several years old but he does look much the same today. His name is Michael Harrison Carter.”

Both Rose and Freeman look up from the photo.

“He's my brother.”

“The guy from Arizona,” Freeman says. “I thought he took off.”

Peggy nods. “For almost a year. He and his family have resurfaced. His wife and son are in hiding and are safe, but Michael has disappeared again.”

Freeman opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. I know exactly what he's thinking. I look at Peggy and she knows, too.

“He did try to hurt Mr. Jarvis and I,” Peggy says. “He was under HYDRA’s control back then but something went wrong with his… conditioning. It's wearing off, and now we believe he may be going after a possible HYDRA cell in San Diego.”

Rose’s eyes widen. “HYDRA is here, in California?”

“Possible cell, Rose,” I say. “We don’t know if the cell is still there. The intel we have is several months old.”

Freeman scribbles in his always-present notebook, then looks up at me. “If I may, Chief. Why Roberts and I? Baxter and Greene have been part of the HYDRA detail in the past. Not that I’m complaining, I know how nasty these people are and I can’t wait to collar some, but why us?”

“It has come to our attention that HYDRA has files on myself and my team,” Peggy says. “I want fresh faces, not to mention fresh eyes, as my team.” She pauses, then looks at Rose. “I realize I am too close to this, and I need someone who isn't afraid to be brutally honest with me.” 

Rose gives her a soft smile. “Gotcha covered, Peg.”

Peggy turns to Freeman. “There is a possibility that we will need to go into Mexico, so we need someone who can speak the language. Also, you have contacts with law enforcement all over this state, and we may need their assistance.”

Freeman nods. “Entiendo.”

All three of us look at him, questioning.

“It means ‘I understand’,” Freeman says, then pauses. “Um, I hate to ask this but… how, um, stable is your brother?”

It’s a good question, one that I am wondering about myself. What has that brainwashing done to his ability to form rational thoughts? When he's in a dangerous situation, will that conditioning kick in?

Peggy takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “He's going after HYDRA because he's concerned about the future safety and health of his family. I suppose he is as stable as someone who has revenge on his mind, and whose mind has been altered in the past.”

Silence fills the room for several seconds as we consider her words. Basically, his stability is in question, and that makes this even more dangerous.

“First thing we need to do,” I say, “is to determine where this HYDRA facility would be. According to our intel, it’s in an abandoned gem mine in San Diego.” I motion to Freeman. “We need all maps we have of San Diego and surrounding areas. Check the storage room.” Then I motion to Rose. “See if you can find any records about patents or mining deeds for San Diego, maybe just try all of San Diego County and we’ll work down from there.”

Rose and Freeman nod, then leave the room to get to work.

“We need to find him, Daniel,” Peggy says, sounding exhausted.

Under the table, I take her hand and give it a squeeze. “You have the best team possible, and I'll be here as backup. We’ll find him.”

We have to. I don’t think she can go through losing him again.

\----------

Daniel, Rose and I spend the better part of two hours scouring over every piece of information we could get our hands on about gem mining in San Diego County, with Freeman calling his contacts at the San Diego PD for known activity around any mines. 

It turns out mining is big business in Southern California. Quartz, tourmaline, topaz, and gems I’ve never heard of have been mined in the area for more than 100 years. Most of the mines these days are dormant and unmanned due to the war, which means our work is cut out for us.

I leave Daniel and Rose to sift through the literally hundreds of gem mines in San Diego County and go out to my desk. I feel as if there is more information to be had, and the only person I can ask is Ruth Carter.

I pick up the phone and dial the familiar number.

“Stark residence.”

“Hello, Mr. Jarvis.”

“Mrs. Sousa, what can I do for you?”

“Is Ruth still resting?”

“No, she and Mrs. Jarvis are outside showing Jimmy the... wildlife on the grounds.”

I bite back a laugh at the gruff tone of his voice. “I hate to interrupt, but I need to speak with her again.”

“Of course. Please hold.”

I smile, knowing Mr. Jarvis’s contention with Howard’s menagerie, though I’m sure a toddler must think he is in animal heaven. Quite a contrast to what he is used to. Michael did do one thing right, bringing them out of hiding. They're safe now, even if he isn't. Why would he do this…

“Peggy, any word?”

I shake my head, clearing the mental fog. “Ruth, no, nothing yet, but I have a few more questions for you.”

“Of course,” she says. “I’ll do anything to help.”

“Michael told me that he was unable to remember parts of his life, and that once certain words were spoken to him, something in him changed. Do you know how that worked?”

“There were specific Russian words spoken, and combinations of words were put together to give orders. I wasn’t privy to what those words or combinations were, but I could tell when they were spoken to him. He would be his normal self, then his entire demeanor would change. He knew who I was but he wouldn’t see me. I know that sounds strange.”

“No, it makes sense,” I say. “Part of his conditioning must have included the ability to disassociate from friends and loved ones. The job was the only thing that mattered.” 

“Later conditioning changed him more drastically. Michael started to forget people, his family. He remembered me but he became more… distant, more like he did when he was under the influence of those words. Not the same man I fell in love with.”

“Do you know how many there were like Michael?”

“I don’t,” Ruth says, her voice conveying her frustration. “I think they intentionally put us in contact with only a handful of them to keep us guessing. I knew about a dozen, all men. I was told they volunteered but after talking to some of them, I realized they were there against their will.”

With everything she had seen, I have to ask her. “Why didn’t you leave, Ruth?”

She sighed again. “I knew there was no way I could escape alive. One of the nurses decided to leave and they found out. She was killed in front of the rest of us, as an example, they said. Besides, by that time, I was in love with Michael. I couldn't leave him there.”

Ruth was silent for several seconds. I didn’t say anything, waiting for her to continue.

“Michael came to us as a POW, held in one of the camps for a few years. It was late 1942 when he came to us.”

He had been declared dead in 1940. My brother had been in a POW camp for two years, alive, and we had no idea. If he was alive, whose body was identified as Michael’s?

“The men who were held,” she continued, “some worked in the labs. Some were sent on missions. Michael and one of the others were the most… active that I knew of. I was told they showed specific abilities that were desirable.”

“Was the other man a POW?”

“Yes, he was American. He came to us the end of 1945. A good man, sarcastic just like Michael, though he didn’t remember who he was. One of nurses got a glimpse at his dog tags and said his name was James. He lost his arm before he got to us but that didn’t seem to faze him. He started to open up to me, that sense of humor coming through, until,” she paused and sighed, “they took it from him.”

It’s easy to focus on my brother being the victim, but he wasn’t the only one. A dozen men that Ruth knew of, and I know it had to be many more than that. All experimented on to further the world-domination ravings of a madman.

“He and Michael were rays of sunshine in that dark place,” she said, her voice wistful. “I insisted that we name our son after him, even though Michael didn’t know who he was.”

“What happened to him?”

“His conditioning went much faster than the others. Within two months, I noticed dramatic personality changes, rather than the year it took Michael. He was transferred somewhere else a few months before Michael started getting his memory back.”

“Has Michael had anyone say those words since his memory returned?”

The only sound coming from the phone is a slight static. I’m not sure if she hung up the phone. “Ruth?”

“I think so. At the ranch, when you were there.”

“He was at the house?” He knew I was there but didn’t come out. “Did he see me?”

“Yes. When I went inside, he asked what you wanted. I told him, then he got a phone call and left immediately.”

A phone call, most likely placed once it was discovered that Vernon Masters was captured.

“Ruth, do you think he received orders over the phone? Orders to eliminate me?”

She hesitates again. “I hadn’t thought about that before, but yes, it’s possible. I didn’t notice a drastic change in his demeanor like normal, but ever since his memory had started returning, everything was different.”

“Just one more question. Did Michael ever talk about a HYDRA cell in San Diego?”

“Not HYDRA but he did mention maybe going to San Diego, before we came to see you.”

“What exactly did he say? Can you remember?”

“Let me think.” Ruth is silent for nearly a minute before she speaks again. “He wanted to visit northwest San Diego County. I remember that for some reason.”

“Could you stay on the phone for a minute?”

“Of course.”

I run from my desk into the conference room, startling Daniel and Rose. 

“Northwest San Diego County.”

Daniel nods and grabs a map, handing it to me. I run back to my desk and look at the area circled in red.

“Ruth, does the Pala District sound familiar?”

“I’m sorry. I just remember northwest San Diego County.”

“Don’t apologize. You have been a huge help. This narrows it down for us substantially. Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_ , Peggy,” Ruth says, her voice pleading. “Bring him home safe and sound.”

“I will do everything I can, Ruth. I give you my word.”

I hang up the phone, realizing I didn't tell her I would bring Michael home alive. At this point, I don’t know if that’s possible.


	10. Chapter 10

Peggy briefed the team about what information Ruth gave her, and they broke for an hour to get packed. Since she essentially was packed already, Peggy was back within fifteen minutes and sat down in the conference room to write up her notes from Ruth. 

I hear Freeman’s voice in the bullpen and walk to my door, motioning him inside my office.

“Talked to one of the detectives at SDPD,” he said. “He knows the Pala District very well, grew up around there and would run around in the mines as a kid. We’re meeting him at the San Diego Natural History Museum.”

“Good work, Freeman.”

“Anything I can help with, Chief?”

“Why don’t you head down to the lab and see what new toys they have. We don’t know what you will run into, if anything.”

“Helps to be prepared, though,” he says, turning to leave but he stops. “So you and Peggy…”

“Peggy and I what?”

He shrugs. “You two... got hitched.”

My eyebrow quirks. “What makes you think that?”

“Well,” he says, motioning to my left hand, “you’re wearing a ring now, which you never did before. And Peggy has a wedding band along with her engagement ring.”

Sometimes Freeman’s investigative skills are too good. “It isn’t public knowledge.”

“No one will hear it from me.” He shrugs again. “You two are good together. I'm happy for you.”

I know he means it, and he's one of the few people I trust with this knowledge. “Thanks, Neal.” 

“I’ll be in the lab,” he says, leaving my office.

I leave as well, walking into the conference room.

Peggy looks up from her notes. “Just waiting on Rose and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Neal put me in touch with his contacts in San Diego County. We have an APB out on Michael and the car.” I sit down next to her. “Just so you know, Neal knows about us.”

She smiles. “He's known about us since Arizona.”

“Not _us_ us. _Married_ us.”

Her eyes widen. “You told him?”

“No.” I turn the ring on my finger. “Forgot about this. Guess I've already become accustomed to it.”

She leans into me, our mouths whisper-close. “I’m glad to hear that.”

I can't help myself, closing the minuscule gap between our lips. We’ve been together for more than a year, yet kissing her never fails to make my heart race. 

I break the kiss before it gets completely out of control. “Sure I can’t go with you?”

“No,” she says, brushing fingers over my cheek, “you’re needed here.”

“You’ll be checking in frequently, right?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“That wasn’t the chief asking.”

She smiles. “Yes, Daniel, I will check in frequently. You don’t have to worry. I have your two best agents with me.”

“Don’t remind me. How am I going to function without you and them?”

“You’ll manage.”

I lean in for a brief kiss. “I love you, Peg. Be careful.”

“I love you, too. And I will.”

Rose’s abrupt entrance into the conference room breaks the reverie. “Oh, sorry. Um, I’m here and ready to go. Freeman is at the car already, loading in some equipment.”

She squeezes my hand, then stands and picks up her duffel. “We’ll let you know when we get to San Diego. Maybe by then we'll have a hit on the car.”

I nod. “Rose, can you stay behind for a minute?”

“Sure,” she says with a shrug.

Peggy gives me a ‘what are you up to’ look, but I just smile, and she leaves.

“Don’t worry, Chief,” Rose says quietly. “We’re a good team. We’ve got this.”

“I know you do. What Peggy said, you being brutally honest with her. Please make sure you do that. And be careful. This has the potential to be very dangerous.”

She puts a hand on her hip. “I may not have as much experience as some of the other agents, but I do have good instincts. Plus I kick butt pretty well.”

I laugh. “Yes, you do.”

“Chief, Daniel. I will keep an eye on her. I promise.”

“Thanks, Rose.”

As she leaves the room, I sit back in the chair. Rose is right; they’re a good team. That doesn’t mean I won’t worry about them and the myriad unknowns this mission entails. That’s a chief’s job, being concerned for his agents. However, I’m well aware that my worries about one of those agents has nothing to do with the SSR.

\---------

Freeman pulls up in front of the impressive stone structure housing the San Diego Natural History Museum. Standing near the top of the grand steps is a smartly dressed man, reminding me of Mr. Jarvis. He is wearing a dark three-piece suit, his blonde hair slicked back to perfection. He has a confident air to him and his face reminds me of the actor Alan Ladd. His stance is contradictory to his clothing, leaning casually against a pillar.

As we walk up the steps, the man smiles. “Neal, you haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you, Charlie,” Freeman says. “Still dressing like a millionaire.”

“Dress for the job you want.” 

Freeman reaches him first, shaking his hand and slapping the man on the shoulder. “Charlie Pennington, meet Agents Peggy Carter and Rose Roberts. Charlie is a lou with San Diego homicide.”

He shakes my hand, then Rose’s. “Nice to meet you both. Welcome to San Diego. Too bad it’s for work, not fun.”

Freeman had told Pennington that we were searching for a fugitive and his operation, but he did not say anything about HYDRA. 

“Charlie here is an expert on the mines around San Diego,” Freeman says.

Pennington shrugs. “I wouldn’t say expert, but I did grow up around the Pala District. Got into a lot of trouble wandering around the abandoned mines. And some of the still-active mines.” He points to the building in front of us. “This place has more history about mining in this area than any other institution.”

He motions for us to follow him inside, which we do. He nods to a uniformed guard and leads us down a long hallway and past a barricaded area. “This building was an infectious disease ward during the war. They got it back not too long ago and are still moving the exhibits and artifacts back in. Part of it is closed to the public, including the mine exhibit, but I know people.”

He turns to the left and we follow him into an exhibit area that is decorated like the inside of a cave. Three of the walls are rock and stone, gold and iridescent flecks glittering around us. The one smooth wall is covered with a map of the San Diego area, with red and green flags at various spots.

Pennington points to the map. “Red means gold or silver mines, green means gems and minerals.”

“I never realized there was so much mining in California, besides gold, of course,” I say.

Pennington nods. “Most people don’t. They equate California with the Gold Rush. There are more than 160 different kinds of minerals and gems mined in this area. I hate to tell you this, but there’s about 80 gem mines here.”

“Talk about looking for a needle in a haystack,” Rose says.

“Actually, Agent Roberts, it’s not as bad as you think. Not all of them are abandoned, and very few have been sold recently. I checked into it, and there are only five that have been sold in the past ten years.”

“So those five will be our first stops,” I say.

“I figured you’d say that.” Pennington reaches inside his suit jacket and withdraws several tri-folded pieces of paper, opening one of them. “Here’s the list.” He points at the mining map. “Topaz Queen Mine is here, and not too far from it are the smaller Stuart and Sky Cloud mines.” He then points to a different area. “The San Pablo is here, and way over here is the Blue Cabin Mine.”

Freeman runs a hand back and forth over his buzzed blonde hair. “What’s your gut feeling, Charlie? If you wanted to hide something, where would you put it?”

“Depends on how big it is,” Pennington says, pointing to the map again. “San Pablo is remote but it’s not a big mine. The Stuart and Sky Cloud mines are even smaller. My money’s on Blue Cabin because it’s the most remote, but that’s just a shot in the dark. Topaz Queen is the biggest of all of them, so that could be one to look at. It’s your call.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” I say. “This is invaluable information.”

He hands me the paper he read from, as well as several others. “Maps to each of the five are on here, with known entrances, as well as some unmarked ones.” He smiles. “Like I said, I did a lot of… investigating as a teen.” He reaches into his jacket again and presents a folded map to me. “This map is from the museum and shows the locations of all 80 mines, in case you need it.”

“Charlie, you’re a lifesaver,” Freeman says, shaking his hand.

“Always happy to help the feds.”

The four of us head down the long hallway toward the exit.

Freeman turns to me. “What’s the plan? Take Blue Cabin first?”

“I’m thinking that this wouldn’t be a small operation, so my instincts say to go with the biggest first.”

Rose nods. “Sounds right.”

“Topaz Queen it is,” Freeman says. “There’s a chance that none of these will be it.”

I shrug. “True, and there’s a chance that…” I stop myself before I say HYDRA, “the operation we are looking for is not around anymore, but we have to investigate.”

I see a phone booth near the exit and stop. “I’m going to check in with the chief. You two can head to the car. Lieutenant Pennington, it was nice to meet you, and thank you for helping us with such short notice.”

Pennington shakes my hand. “Anytime, Agent Carter.”

Freeman and Rose walk away with Pennington. I make the collect call to the SSR offices, getting Aileen on the line. She transfers me quickly to Daniel.

“Sousa.”

“Daniel, we’re in San Diego. We’ve met with Freeman’s contact.”

“Good information?”

“Better than I thought,” I say. “He’s given us a list of mines to start with.”

“No bites on the APB yet, but you did get a phone call from Chester Phillips.”

I feel my eyebrows rise. “What did he want?”

“He wants you in New York soon as possible,” he says. “I told him you were following up on a lead on a HYDRA operation here on the west coast. That seemed to appease him, though I don’t know for how long.”

“I’ll call him when we have this wrapped up. And I’ll keep you posted on the mines.”

“Good. Be careful.”

“You said that already,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“I know I did. Bye, Peg.”

“Goodbye, Daniel.” I hang up the phone and smile. 

As I leave the building and walk down the inordinate number of steps to the car, I can’t help but wonder what Phillips wants. No doubt something about the bunker, though why would he need me in New York? A simple phone call would suffice. 

As I get in the car, Freeman hands me the map showing where the Topaz Queen mine is located, and he pulls the car away from the curb.

I shake off the thought of Phillips. First things first. We need to find Michael.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real Life has invaded, so updates won't be as frequent. I hope to have new chapters uploaded every 10-14 days. For those who are still reading, thank you!

Freeman, Rose and I found nothing at the first mine, the Topaz Queen. The two known entrances and one unmarked entrance were boarded up, the wood weathered and obviously undisturbed.

As we pull up to the second mine, the Blue Cabin, it looks much like the other except that this mine’s two entrances are open. The sun is shining and it’s been unseasonably warm, yet Freeman insists on going inside each entrance. He makes it a few feet inside both before yelling out that they are blocked by walls of rock. No wonder they weren't boarded; landslides had done the job of making them impassable. 

Freeman crawls out and wipes his brow with his handkerchief, smearing the dirt on his face. “Strike two. San Pedro next?”

I nod as we get in the car. The map is sitting between Freeman and I, and I pick it up as he starts the car. “Looks like about ten miles northeast of here. Take the road we were just on, then about four miles, take a right.”

I roll down my window and let the tepid air flow over me, hair be damned. It’s a good ten degrees warmer than Los Angeles, which makes little sense. We’re only two hours or so away. California is an odd bird, but there is no snow, so I cannot complain. It’s a temperate place, the perfect place to raise a family.

Where in the bloody hell did that come from?

The image of Daniel with Jimmy pops into my head. He will make a wonderful father, and I want everything for him and any future children. Knowing what Jimmy has gone through in his short life makes me shudder. He is too young to remember it but that does not make it right. Michael’s life and mine are not as far apart as I thought. We are both battling demons, mine being real and his being in his damaged mind. 

Bringing a child into this chaos I call a life is not ideal. I want to say that Daniel and I should wait until our lives settle down, but when will that be? I can’t imagine either of us slowing down any time soon.

What am I doing? We’ve been married less than seventy-two hours and already I’m planning our future. I need to...

“Peggy?”

Rose, from the backseat. Bless you, dear Rose, for saving me from my overactive brain. “Yes?”

“I can’t thank you enough for asking for me for this mission,” she says. “I really appreciate the chance to be in the field again.”

I turn around. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re an excellent agent, and severely underused as one, if you ask me.”

She smirks. “You can take that up with the chief.”

“Don’t think I haven’t,” I say, matching her smile with my own.

Freeman laughs. “He and I just had that conversation, too. You did a real good job on the Murphy case, Roberts. You caught something in his background that the rest of us chumps missed. We solved it because of you.”

Rose smiles one of the widest smiles I’ve seen on her. “You both are too good for my ego.” She sits back against the backseat. “Speaking of being too good for someone, Neal. How is Gina?”

He chuckles. “You’re right there. She’s out of my league, but she still sticks around. Even went to a baseball game with me.”

I’ve never met Gina but Daniel has, and he says she’s ‘a swell gal,’ in typical Daniel-speak. That means he likes her, and I know that Neal is head over heels in love with her.

“I saw the perfect dress to wear to a wedding at The Broadway,” Rose says. “Any chance I’ll need it soon?”

I can see a flush creeping into Neal’s cheeks. “Uh, I don't know about that. I’ll let you know, Rose.”

We drive up over a small hill, and as we reach the crest, I can see an entrance to the San Pablo mine. Freeman drives a few more feet, then stops the car and we file out. As we walk the several hundred feet, the first thing that stands out to me is how undisturbed the ground is. No, undisturbed is the wrong word. It’s perfect. No evidence of wind or animal tracks. As if the dirt has been brushed to evenly distribute it.

“Be on alert,” I say to Freeman and Rose. “I have a feeling about this one.”

I hear both of them pull the guns from their holsters. We slowly finish our approach to the entrance, the one known entrance for the mine. As with the Topaz Queen, the entrance is boarded up.

I nod and whisper, “Other entrance.”

The three of us move around the side of the mound housing the mine to the second, unmarked entrance, me in the lead and Freeman at the rear. I stop short when I see boards scattered around and the entrance wide open. Rose and Freeman both come up beside me and nod.

Michael is here. Or he was here.

I can't get my hopes up that this is the mine. His car is nowhere in sight. Michael never said which one, and he may or may not have known. If that's the case, he is doing exactly what we are: visiting as many as possible looking for the right one. Something in my gut tells me, though, that he knew. My gut rarely lets me down.

“I’ll go in first,” Freeman says, pulling a flashlight from his back pocket.

I nod, and he moves around the boards. I motion to Rose to go next, and I keep an eye out around us. It’s eerily quiet, which isn’t unusual for a deserted area, but it’s a foreboding quiet.

Walking in several steps behind Rose, I see that the mine already is weakly lit by spotlights placed about fifty feet apart. This is the right place, no question. The rock walls show the ragged effects of years of drilling and gem harvesting.

Several feet ahead of me, I see the outline of someone kneeling. Rose and I approach and see it is Freeman, and he is checking for a pulse on a prone man. He shakes his head.

The three of us walk single-file down the tunnel, guns and eyes on alert. Ahead is another body, curled in the fetal position. Freeman checks for a pulse and shakes his head again. Two guards dead.

Michael has been here, and may still be.

We continue on, finding no more bodies, until we come to the proverbial fork in the road. Do we continue in this tunnel or take the one to the left? Rose and Freeman look to me, wanting direction. I wish I had the answer. Then it clicks.

“Flashlight,” I whisper to Freeman.

He hands it to me, and I turn it on, pointing it at the ground. I see evidence of fresh shoe prints in the dirt off to the left. There are prints in front of us as well, but they look older.

I motion to the left and hand the flashlight back to Freeman.

The tunnel is extremely narrow, hardly wide enough for two people to stand side by side. Spotlights dot the walls but far more sparse than the main tunnel. 

Less than ten steps inside and against the right wall, under one of the spotlights, is a single metal folding chair. It is no longer occupied, as the person who was in the chair is in a heap in front of it. I feel for a pulse and it's there. He has a large gash on his forehead, most likely from being hit over the head with something.

We slowly walk forward, me taking lead and Freeman sweeping the rear. Rose alternates looking ahead and behind.

All of a sudden, I see a figure in front of us, though I can’t tell if it’s male or female because it is in shadow. Rose sees it as well and points her gun.

“Peggy, what the flippin’ hell are you doing here?”

“Hold your fire.” I let out a sigh. “Michael, you need to come with us.”

“No, all of you need to get out of here,” he says coarsely. “It’s not safe.”

“Rose, you and Neal stand guard at the entrance of this tunnel. I will take care of Michael.” Both hesitate but I nod at them; I can handle this. They reluctantly leave.

Michael walks toward me and grabs my arm, turning me toward the tunnel entrance. “I told you, Peggy. Get the hell out of here.”

I pull away from him. “What have you done?”

“I’ve taken care of the guards on this level. The bombs will take care of the rest.”

My breath catches. “What bombs?”

“My nitramene bombs. The HYDRA rats are hiding in the second and third levels. I’ve set two on the level below here and one in the lift shaft on this level. If someone uses that lift, it’s all over.”

Nitramene? “Where did you get a hold of nitramene?”

He smiles. “You remember those boxes in my car?”

He’s been driving around with nitramene in his car. Is he bloody crazy?

“One of the few benefits from being brainwashed was that I was taught how to make bombs, including using volatile chemicals.” He smirked. “I hated science in school but found a new appreciation for it.”

“But doesn't the nitramene have to be detonated at close range? You would have to drop it or somehow make sure it shatters. You won’t be able to get out before…” A wave of nausea hits me. He has no intention of leaving here. That’s exactly the plan and has been all along.

“Michael, you can’t do this. You have a family. What about your wife? And Jimmy? What about your son?”

I see a break in his resolve but he shores it up just as fast.

“You'll make sure they're safe and that they are taken care of.”

“They want you back, Michael,” I say, pleading. “They want you home.”

“I can't do that, and you know it, Peggy. They will never be safe as long as I am around.” His eyes narrow. “And by God, I'm taking down as many of these bastards as I can with me.”

“You're mad,” I say, unable to hide the pain in my voice.

“I told you I wasn't the man you knew. Leave me be, Peg. Let me do this.”

Over my dead body, Michael.

I raise my gun and point it at his leg. “I can't. I can't let you make Ruth a widow. I can’t let Jimmy grow up without a father.”

“So you pull a gun on me?”

“I know where to shoot to make it hurt but not to kill you.”

“Don't waste your time. You need to get out of here. Go. Tell Ruth and Jimmy I love them.” His voice cracks on the last three words.

“Tell them yourself.”

I cock my gun, ready to pull the trigger, when I hear an unfamiliar voice yelling:

“тоска! рассветом!”

It's Russian, _longing_ and _daybreak_. Bloody hell. We've found the HYDRA base, and those were trigger words for Michael. I look at him but he has nothing but confusion on his face. The words have no effect. Thank God! He is free...

A shot rings out, and I duck down. There is nothing to provide cover. I look in Michael’s direction, and see that he is on the ground several feet from me. Whoever said those words must be firing at us. The sound bouncing off the rock walls creates an echo and I can’t tell where it’s coming from.

Another shot, and I hear Michael groan. That shot definitely came from the tunnel entrance. Where are Freeman and Rose? I look toward the entrance, and one of the spotlights partially illuminates the shooter, gun raised. What is he...

“Agent Freeman, stand down!” I yell.

He doesn't answer, doesn't acknowledge me. He just keeps looking in our direction, his main focus on Michael.

“Hold your fire, Freeman! That's an order!”

I move toward Michael when another shot rings out, hitting the rock above my head. I duck just in time.

Dear God. 

Those trigger words weren't directed at Michael. They were directed anyone under HYDRA control. 

Oh Neal...

From the shadows I see a figure, limping toward Freeman. It must be the guard. He says just one word: “убийство.”

_Kill._

I fire at the shadows and silently rejoice in the sound of the bullet hitting its target.

“Neal! Don't listen to him!”

He fires at me again. The shot spatters rock inches above my head.

I hear another shot, waiting for the impact, but instead I hear a body hit the ground. I didn't realize my eyes were closed, and when I open them, I see Rose standing at the entrance to the tunnel, her gun straight out and a look of disbelief on her face.

“Peggy,” she says, her voice wavering, “what is happening? Freeman told me to stay put but when I heard you yelling…”

I am barely listening to her as I rush over to Michael. He's been shot in the shoulder, which looks like a flesh wound. It's the shot to the head that has me panicked. I check for a pulse, willing my hand to stop shaking. He has a pulse, barely, but it's there.

“He's still alive,” Rose says.

“Yes.” I look over at her and realize she is talking about Freeman. “Get him out of here. When you get to the car, cuff him.”

“But he...”

“Do it, Rose! If he comes to and fights you, shoot him in the leg. Do not kill him. We need to interrogate him.”

I watch as she picks up the unconscious Freeman and half-pulls, half-drags him out. Then I turn my attention to Michael. Blood oozes from the side of his head. Blinking back tears, I hoist him into a sitting position. To my surprise, he groans and opens his eyes.

“Michael, you're going to be fine.”

He sighs out a laugh. “That's my Princess Pegleg. Always the optimist.”

“If Princess Pegleg says you're going to be fine,” I say in a shaky, thick voice, “then you'll be fine.”

He shakes his head. “Not likely. And you're not a princess anymore. I deem thee queen. Queen Pegleg.”

I laugh through my tears. “Then I need subjects to rule, and you're one of them. Come on.”

That sarcastic Michael grin graces his lips just before he falls unconscious again. That guard could have called for reinforcements before confronting us. I have to get Michael out of here, before we are discovered. 

So much blood. 

I put his arm over my shoulder and stand, groaning as I heave him into a standing position. He’s heavier than he looks, but I force us forward step by step until we are outside of the mine. Rose is running from the car toward me and meets us several feet from the mine.

“I handcuffed him,” she says, “and I put him in the trunk.”

I look at her, confused.

“I couldn’t find anything to handcuff him to, and I didn’t want to leave him in there alone in case he came to, so…”

“Good thinking, Rose.”

She gets on the other side of Michael, and we make the slow trek away from the mine. We get within a few feet of the car when the explosion happens, throwing the three of us against the car with a white-hot wave of air. I slam against the door, bracing myself with one hand and trying to hold on to Michael with the other. He slips from my grip and falls to the ground.

“Rose, are you okay?”

“Feeling a little like a piece of fried chicken, but fine otherwise.”

“We need to get Michael in the car and get out of here. There could be more explosions.”

Rose opens the driver’s side door and we stuff Michael into the front seat. I get in the passenger side and lean him against me. 

Rose hops in the driver’s seat and starts the car. “We passed a hospital on the way here. I think I can find it.”

As we drive away, a second, thunderous explosion, bigger than the first, roars around us. I turn around in time to see fire shooting into the air, plumes of black smoke billowing around it. The car lurches forward from the blast but it doesn't seem to hurt it.

I feel Michael’s neck. His pulse is there but it's so much weaker than before. Rose looks at me and I feel the car lurch forward again, not from another explosion but from her stepping on the gas.


	12. Chapter 12

After dealing with the local police, it’s a relief finally to sit down. Hands in my lap, head down. It's the first minute I have had to myself in hours.

The hospital has a policy of calling the authorities if a person with a gunshot wound comes through their doors, so I have spent nearly all of the two hours that Michael has been in surgery explaining why I showed up with _two_ people with bullets in their bodies. That led to explaining what we were doing, which led to explaining our involvement in the fiery destruction of a gem mine. I could tell that the detectives taking my statement were believing less the more I spoke. I avoided involving the local FBI office by tossing out Lieutenant Charlie Pennington’s name. A quick call to him and the officers changed their tune.

The police are gone, Rose is on her way back to Los Angeles, Freeman is in a room being guarded by a uniformed officer, and Michael… I have no idea what is happening with Michael. More than two hours and no word. The waiting is excruciating. I suppose no news is good news, but something tells me that is not true. 

In my mind, I hear Daniel’s voice, telling me that this is not my fault. How I wish that were true. Michael was shot because of me. I chose my team. I chose the wolf in sheep’s clothing. My choice. And Michael is paying for that catastrophic choice, possibly with his life. I fight back the tears that have threatened me since he was shot.

A clinking sound reaches me, reminding me of Daniel again. The sound of his crutch is a constant in my life, something I should have learned to tune out but haven't because it brings me comfort every time I hear it. Knowing he is close by would make the events of today more tolerable. However, this is a hospital. Crutches are a dime a dozen here. No comfort in that.

Where in the bloody hell is the doctor? I need an update. I’m waiting to call Daniel, though I know I should have called him right away. I should call him now but my legs refuse to take me to the pay phone.

And Ruth! I didn’t call Ruth, either. How can I call her until I know if Michael is going to be okay? How will I be able to break the news to her if the worst happens? That her husband, Jimmy’s father, is…

I feel someone next to me and look up. I wasn’t hearing things.

“Hi,” Daniel says, sitting next to me and propping his crutch against the chair next to him.

“What…?”

He smiles. “Rose called me as soon as you got here. I drove straight here. Jarvis should be right behind me with Ruth.” He takes my hand in his. “How is he?”

Those tears I’ve been fighting for hours are dangerously close to falling. “I don’t know. He’s in surgery. I haven’t heard anything.”

His hand brushes a stray hair from my cheek. “How are _you_?”

“Fine,” I say automatically. “A few scrapes from--”

“I didn’t mean physically, Peg.”

“I know you didn’t.” I lean my shoulder against his as a shaky breath shudders through me. “I’m as well as can be expected.”

“Is… the suspect still alive?” His arm slips around me.

It’s interesting that he didn’t say Freeman. I know the betrayal is hurting him as much as it is me. Freeman is… was a confidant, a friend.

“Rose shot him in the shoulder,” I say. “When he went down, he must have hit his head because he was unconscious. I have no idea how he is now.” I leave off the ‘and I don’t care how he is’ part.

“I’ll find out,” Daniel says. 

“Where is he?!” 

Daniel and I turn at Ruth Carter’s voice. She runs from Mr. Jarvis straight to me.

“Peggy, what happened? Mr. Jarvis didn’t tell me anything.”

“Because I didn’t know anything,” Mr. Jarvis offers as he approaches.

Daniel nods. “He’s right. I didn’t give him any details. I wanted to wait until you were here.”

“Michael was shot,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “We found the HYDRA facility, and there was a gun battle.” I am not ready to tell her that an agent in my charge is responsible for this.

Ruth sits next to me. “Is he…” The pain in her expression is tearing me apart. 

I clear my throat. “He’s in surgery. I am waiting for word on how he is doing.” I look at Mr. Jarvis. “Thank you for bringing her.”

“It was no trouble at all,” he says. “Mrs. Jarvis is taking care of young James. I should get back but first I will make a hotel reservation for Mrs. Carter. There is a hotel just across the street. Would you like one as well, Mrs. Sousa?”

“Mr. Jarvis, that would be wonderful,” I say, relieved that someone else is taking care of the details. I am all detailed out, emotionally and physically. 

He nods and leaves the waiting room just as the two detectives enter.

“Those are the detectives,” I say to Daniel. “Wagner and Cooper. San Diego PD Violent Crimes.”

Daniel moves his arm from around me. “I’m going to talk to them, then check in on… the suspect.” I watch as he gets up from the chair and walks away.

Ruth gasps. “The person who shot Michael is here?”

“Yes,” I say, turning my attention back to her, “but he is being guarded. He’s not a threat to Michael anymore.”

She relaxes back into the chair but her face still reflects her fear. “How did this happen?”

“We were… ambushed.” Technically that is not incorrect. We had no idea there was a traitor among us. “It was a small space, nowhere to take cover.”

Ruth doesn’t speak for more than a minute before she says, “He wasn’t planning to come back, was he?”

All I can do is shake my head. If I try to speak, the dam will break and that cannot happen here, in public. 

“I am looking for Agent Carter,” a male dressed in scrubs says as he enters the waiting room.

I jump up from the chair. “That’s me.” Ruth is right next to me.

“Carter? So you are…?”

“His sister.” I motion to Ruth. “And this is his wife.”

The doctor nods. “I am Dr. Arlington. I apologize for the lack of communication about Mr. Carter. We had a bit of a complication and I called in a colleague from another hospital for consult.”

“How is he? Is he...” Ruth cuts off her question.

“He has made it through the surgery, Mrs. Carter, though I can't say the surgery was a success. The bullet entered the right side of his brain and is lodged in there.”

“But you were able to remove it, right?”

“Well, that’s the complication. We can’t get to the bullet.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it in twenty-two years of surgery. The bullet is untouchable at this point because his brain has started repairing itself. This is not unusual; the human brain is more resilient than you think, but…” He stops and looks intently at me. “You’re sure it was only thirty minutes from the time of the shooting to you getting him here?”

“Of course,” I say. “It was thirty minutes at the most.”

“The level of repair that his brain is at now is unprecedented,” he says. “It looks more like an injury that is weeks old, not hours. If we tried to get the bullet now, we would do more harm than good. That's why I brought in the other surgeon. We both agreed that the safer course of action is to leave the bullet alone.”

Ruth gasps. “You left the bullet in there? Can he live with it?”

“Of course. There are dozens of stories of soldiers coming home from the war with bullets lodged in their brains. Most of them live normal lives.”

I notice he said ‘most,’ not ‘all’. Bile keeps rising in my throat and I keep swallowing it down.

“So he’ll be okay,” Ruth says, a statement, not a question.

“He’s not out of the woods yet, Mrs. Carter, not at all. If he wakes up--”

“If?” Ruth says the word before I can.

“If he wakes up, we will be better able to access any brain damage.” I can feel Ruth leaning against me as the doctor continues. “Based on where the bullet is lodged, we will be concerned about memory loss, long-term memory specifically, as well as issues with speech and reading.”

Oh dear God.

“I don’t care about that,” Ruth says through her tears. “He will wake up. I know he will.” She turns to me, looking for affirmation. 

I nod and smile. “Michael is strong, Ruth. If anyone can come through this, it's him.”

Ruth nods, pleased with my response. She looks back at Dr. Arlington. “Can I see him?”

“Not just yet, he says. “He's still in the recovery room and will be for a few hours. Once we have him settled in the intensive care unit, you will be able to visit him. I believe he will have a police guard.”

I nod. “Yes, he will.”

“Then I will have a nurse come out here to let you know when you can see him.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Ruth says.

The doctor nods and walks away.

“Michael is going to be okay,” Ruth says strongly. “I almost never raise my voice, but as soon as he recovers, I’m going to yell at him and probably say words he’s never heard me use.”

I give her a sad smile. “I believe I will join you in that, Ruth.”

\-----------

It turns out that Detective Wagner was part of the 705th Tank Destroyer Battalion and saw action at Bastogne. After several minutes of war talk, the other detective, Cooper, cuts to the chase.

“So let me get this straight, Chief Sousa. Your agent, uh, Carter, works in your office but doesn't report to you.”

“Correct,” I say.

“And the man who was shot is her brother.” I nod, and he continues. “And the person who shot the brother is one of your agents and he does report to you.”

I nod. “Yes.”

“And why did your agent shoot him?”

“We believe he is a double agent. Unfortunately, Mr. Carter was caught in the crossfire.”

“What was Mr. Carter doing there in the first place?”

“He was acting as an informant,” I say, hoping my expression hasn't changed and my nose isn't growing like Pinocchio from the lie I'm feeding them.

Cooper, definitely the more no-nonsense of the two, shakes his head. “How do you keep all this spy stuff straight?”

“It's not easy,” I admit.

“Any reason why we have a desecrated mine a few miles from here?”

“This is all part of an ongoing federal investigation, so I'm afraid I can't give you specifics. Suffice it to say that it was a surveillance operation that didn't have the ideal outcome. The SSR takes full responsibility, and we will take care of the official explanation.”

“Good thing because we have no explanation to give,” Cooper says, his expression clearly conveying his suspicions. “I assume you'll be taking custody of the assailant.”

“Yes. I have some of my men driving here right now. I do appreciate you having an officer guarding him.”

“Pennington put in a good word for your people,” Wagner says. “If Charlie says you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Something tells me both of them are not completely sold on that but I leave it be. “I would like to talk to the assailant.”

“Sure thing,” Cooper says. “He’s all yours.” He points down one of the hallways, where I can just make out the uniformed man standing outside one of the doors. 

As I approach the door, I fish out my badge, showing it to the officer. “The man in there is one of my agents. I’ll need to interrogate him.”

The officer nods and opens the door for me. I step inside and see Freeman seated in a recliner next to the bed. He has on a paper gown but a bandage is peeking out from underneath near his shoulder. He is looking straight forward.

I walk around the bed and stand directly in front of him, waiting for him to acknowledge my presence. He is looking at me but not seeing me, his eyes glazed over. I wonder if it’s the pain medication but based on what Rose told me, I doubt that is the reason for his unresponsive state.

“Neal Freeman, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Michael Carter, and the attempted murder of a federal agent, Peggy Carter.”

Freeman keeps looking right through me, no reaction on his face.

“If I have anything to say about it, you'll never see the light of day again. Don't worry, I'll make sure you stay in California. I hear Alcatraz has great views of the Bay.”

He doesn't even blink. 

“Nothing to say for yourself? Fine. You'll talk eventually. I'll make sure of it.”

No response.

The more I look at him, the madder I get. He pretended to be my friend. He pretended to be my right-hand man. He knows everything about the SSR Los Angeles office, and quite a bit about New York. How did he fool me? How did he fool everyone around me? 

I lean down, my face inches from his. “I trusted you, you son of bitch,” I push out through clenched teeth. “I trusted you with secrets, with strategy. I trusted you like a brother. I even trusted you enough to send you on a mission with my wife.”

Before I realize it, I pull my arm back and my fist connects with his jaw. Sharp pain flashed through my hand. Freeman doesn’t flinch; he takes the punch without a sound.

“Daniel!”

I look over and see Peggy at the now-open door, the officer peering around her with wide eyes.

“My hand slipped,” I say, moving my wrist around. 

The officer nods and closes the door after Peggy walks inside.

“Daniel, what are you doing?”

“Interrogating a suspect.” 

She walks to me and takes my hand in hers. I wince; my knuckles are not going to look pretty in a few hours.

“Looks more like you're channeling Jack Thompson.” Her thumb brushes over my already-swelling knuckles. “Was it worth it?”

“Yes,” I say, looking back at Freeman. He has not moved. Blood oozes from one nostril yet he has no expression on his face.

“What is wrong with him?”

“I think it’s the conditioning. Ruth said something about Michael becoming a different person, distant, barely there, when a combination of Russian words was spoken to him. One of the guards at the mine spoke two words, longing and daybreak, and Neal started firing. I am assuming he is still under the influence of those words.”

“How do we get him out from under the influence, then?”

“I don't know.” After a few seconds, Peggy's eyes brighten and she lets go of my hand. She heads toward the door and motions for me to follow. “But maybe Ruth does.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to watcherofworlds for the brainstorming help in this chapter!

We find Ruth sitting in the same seat as before, her legs nervously bouncing. She sees us and her expression is questioning.

I sit next to her. “I need to ask you more about the conditioning that Michael went through.” She nods, though tentatively. “What do you know about the words used to trigger the changes in Michael?”

“Not much. As I said, I wasn’t really a part of that.”

Daniel takes a seat next to me. “Do you remember the words used? Or anything else about those words or how they were used?”

“I don’t, I’m sorry,” Ruth says. “I was never in the room when they said them to him, or any of the other men.” She bites her bottom lip, obviously concentrating. “One thing I do remember. I overheard one of the nurses say that it would take hours for them to come out of that… state.”

“How many hours?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I don't know.”

I glance at Daniel. “It's been about three hours since the mine.”

“We were just in there,” Daniel says, “and he was almost catatonic.”

“Peggy, is this about the person who shot Michael? The one who is here in the hospital?”

“Yes,” I say to Ruth. “We believe he is under the influence of similar conditioning to Michael. We need to question him but he won’t talk.”

She puts a hand on my arm. “Be careful. You don't know what he will do while he is… that way.”

I nod. “We will be careful. Has there been any word about Michael?”

“No one has been out to tell me I can see him,” she says, disappointment coloring her tone. “Mr. Jarvis did come by to tell me about the hotel, and that he has a room for me and one for you. We can get the keys at the front desk.”

“Why don’t you go ahead to the hotel, Ruth? I will be here with the suspect anyway.”

“Absolutely not,” she says sternly. “I am not leaving here until I can see Michael.”

I can’t blame her. She wants to see with her own eyes that he is alive. So do I.

Daniel and I leave her sitting, her legs bouncing nervously again. 

When we get to Freeman’s room, Daniel nods to the uniformed cop. “Officer,” he pauses as he looks at his badge, “Desmond, could you join us in the room?”

Desmond looks at Daniel, eyebrows raised but he follows us in the room and closes the door. Freeman is in the same chair, but now he is gripping the chair arms and his eyes are tightly closed.

“If you could, Officer Desmond,” I say, “please stand to the right of the patient. If he tries to get out of that chair, restrain him.”

Desmond nods but his expression conveys his apprehension at being included in this exercise.

“Neal,” I say. “It's Peggy Carter.”

Nothing.

“We need you to speak with us. I know you're in there, Neal.”

I see a twitch of his lips, as if he wants to speak but cannot.

“Neal Freeman, it's Peggy Carter and Daniel Sousa. We need you to speak with us.”

Freeman’s eyes open briefly and he looks at me. He does not cry out but the expression on his face is one of intense pain. He slams his eyes shut and grips the arms of the chair harder, the tips of his fingers turning white from digging into the vinyl. He repeatedly slams his head against the back of the chair, thankfully covered in a cushion. 

The grimace on his face is painful to watch, but that is exactly what we do for more than a minute. Desmond turns to go, presumably for the doctor, but Daniel stops him. Suddenly, Freeman’s body jerks once, twice, and then his face relaxes.

I glance at Daniel, who is staring at Freeman. A quick look to Desmond tells me he has no idea what he has happened but wishes he hadn't seen it.

“Agent Freeman,” Daniel says. 

Freeman’s eyes flutter open. “Chief, what... “ He looks around. “Why am I in a hospital?” He then looks at me. “What happened at the mine?” 

“You don’t remember?”

He shakes his head, then winces. He looks down at his chest and sees the gauze dressing covering him from his chest to his shoulder. “Was I injured?”

“You were shot,” Daniel says, his tone telling me he’s not convinced that this is not an act. “What do you remember?”

“Uh…” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “We were in the mine. We found Peggy’s brother, and she told Rose and I to guard the exit. We didn’t run into anyone.” He stops and he looks at me. “After that, I don’t know what happened. Why don’t I know?”

“Think hard, Neal,” I say. “What happened after you and Rose went outside the tunnel?” 

He slowly shakes his head. “I don’t know. Is that when I got shot?”

“No,” I say, pausing before I add, “I shot you.”

“What? Why…?”

“You were under the influence of… something. Someone inside the tunnel said two Russian words, and you started shooting.”

Freeman looks at me, his brow furrowed. “I just… I… how is that possible?”

“You shot Michael,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “You tried to shoot me. I had to stop you.”

“But I…” He pauses, eyes wide. “Russian words. Like your brother. HYDRA. You think I’m… with them?”

“You are, Freeman,” Daniel says, his voice tight. “Those two words put you in some kind of state where your only action was to kill.”

“No, it’s not possible!” He tries to get up but Desmond pushes him back in the chair. “Peggy, Daniel, I didn’t do this. I’m not HYDRA, I give you my word!”

“The evidence points to you being a HYDRA operative,” Daniel says flatly. “You will be charged with two counts of attempted murder.”

“Attempted…” Freeman looks at me. “So your brother is alive? I didn’t kill him?”

“Not yet.” Daniel’s jaw is tense, and I can tell he is getting angrier. I put a hand on his back and it has the calming effect I was hoping for. “If Michael Carter does die, you will be charged with murder. Once the doctor releases you, you will be taken into SSR custody.”

Freeman covers his face with his hands. “Why is this happening?” His hands drop and tears are streaming down his cheeks. “I’m not HYDRA, I swear. I wouldn’t do this.”

A knock at the door shocks all of us. Desmond looks at Daniel, who nods. Desmond goes to the door and opens it, Daniel right behind him.

“Ruth?”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I… I just had to see who… hurt Michael.”

Daniel nods. “I understand.” He nods to Desmond to open the door further.

Ruth peeks in and sees Freeman, who is still looking at me, sitting in the chair. She gasps, her mouth remaining open in shock for several seconds. “Neal?”

Freeman gaze goes toward the door and sees her, recognition blooming on his face. “Ruth?”

Daniel looks at Freeman, then Ruth. “You two know each other?”

Ruth enters the room but Daniel stops her a few steps inside. She seems to understand that she needs to keep her distance.

“Neal was one of my… he was one I cared for at the facility.”

Freeman has a puzzled look on his face but says nothing. 

I step in front of his line of sight. “Where do you think you know her from, Neal?”

“She’s a friend,” he answers, then bites his bottom lip. “I’m not sure when or where we met but we have been friends since right after the war.”

I sit down on the edge of the bed, right next to his chair. “After the war, you went to the police academy, right?”

“Not right after,” he says. “I took part in a program that was for veterans.”

“Was it through the Veterans Administration?”

He hesitates. “I’m not sure. The person who approached me didn’t mention the VA, just that it was a new program that the government created to help get vets on their feet.”

“How long were you in the program?”

“It was about two years,” he says.

“Here in the states?”

“Where else would it be?”

I glance at Ruth and she shakes her head.

“He was with us in Europe.”

When I look back at Freeman, his eyes are wide. “I wasn’t overseas, I swear. I haven’t left the states since I’ve been back from the war.”

“Did they give you a place to stay?” I ask him.

“Yes, they had an apartment building that they used to house all of us. I had my own apartment. They helped me get into the police academy...” He shakes his head. “It wasn’t a VA program, was it? It was a cover for HYDRA. They did this to me, to other vets.”

“We’re going to help you, Neal,” I say. “You and Michael have been violated. Your minds have been violated. We are going to do everything we can to get you the help you need.”

“But I shot him. Michael. I tried to shoot you, Peggy. I’m going to jail.”

“We’ll talk about that later. In the meantime, you need to stay put. This officer will be posted outside your door. This is for your protection as much as for others.”

“I understand,” he says, burying his face in his hands again.

I motion to Ruth and Daniel to follow me out of the room. Desmond follows us and closes the door behind him. 

“No one but medical personnel goes in or out,” Daniel tells Desmond. “Check name badges or IDs.”

Desmond nods. “Um, can I ask what I just witnessed?”

I give him a sad smile. “It would be best if you didn’t know.”

We walk away before Desmond can answer.

“Peggy, you don’t actually believe all of this?” Daniel asks.

“I do, Daniel. Ruth knows him.”

Ruth nods. “He was part of the same group as James. He arrived about the same time but left after James.”

“What do you know about him?” Daniel asks Ruth.

“Probably as much, or less, than you do. His name is Neal, I don’t know a last name. He was one of the men I took care of after conditioning sessions. I don’t know his background, and I definitely did not know he was in California. How do you know him?”

It’s time for me to be honest with her. “Neal Freeman works with Daniel and I at the SSR. Daniel is his chief. He was on the mission with Rose and I to find Michael.”

She stops walking. “And you didn’t think to tell me that?”

“I’m sorry, Ruth,” I say, stopping along side of her. “I… I didn’t want to upset you any more. And I admit that I felt guilty that it was one of my agents--”

“Peggy,” she interrupts as she starts walking again, “you didn’t shoot Michael. It wasn’t your fault. I, more than anyone, know what these people are capable of. Neal was not in his right mind, just as Michael was not when he… did what he did.”

We arrive at the waiting room, and the three of us sit. 

Ruth takes my hand. “I don’t blame you. I don’t blame Neal, either. You need to stop these people, Peggy. You need to stop them now. They have destroyed enough lives. No more.”

I nod. “Yes, that is exactly what we are going to do.”

Daniel gets up from his seat. “I would feel better having one of my agents stay with you, Ruth. I am going to call Rose and have her come back.”

Ruth shakes her head. “That's not necessary, Daniel.”

“Oh yes, it is,” I say. “We have agents posted outside of Michael’s room, and we will have one guarding you. This is not negotiable.”

She squeezes my hand, then releases it. “Fine. And thank you.” She pauses, then adds, “Peggy, you look exhausted. Why don’t you go rest? I will stay here until I see Michael.”

“I should stay as well--”

“No,” she says. “I promise to call once I see him and tell you how he his. Mr. Jarvis gave me the phone number of the hotel.”

Daniel puts a hand on my arm. “She’s right, Peg. A nap will do you good, and then we’ll regroup, figure out how to proceed.”

My mind wants to stay but my body is telling me Ruth and Daniel are right. I finally nod and let him lead me out of the hospital. A short nap, and then I need to get to work finding a way to destroy these bloody bastards once and for all.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut ahead!

As soon as we get in the room, Peggy starts undressing. I know she is bone-deep tired, but I’m surprised she’s showing it.

“I need a shower,” she says, walking to the bathroom. 

I don’t argue. Maybe that will help her relax. I can tell from the set of her shoulders that she is stressed. I know how her mind works. She blames herself for all of this. Michael being shot is her fault because she asked for Neal to be part of her team. She doesn’t realize there’s plenty of blame to go around. I invited Neal Freeman into my inner circle. He was my right-hand man. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s me for being so damn blind.

I hear the water running just as the phone rings. I sit on the edge of the bed and pick up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Chief, it’s me,” Rose says. “I’m here at the hospital.”

“Thanks for coming back, Rose.”

“Happy to do so. Ruth is still waiting to see Michael. I talked her into going to the hotel right after she gets to see him but she won’t budge until then.” She pauses for a few seconds, then says, “How’s Peggy doing?”

“She’s fine,” I say, knowing I’m lying through my teeth.

“I know you’ll take good care of her, Daniel.”

There she goes, using my first name. Rose straddles that line between subordinate and friend. Deep down, I know I can trust Rose with my life, but there’s a niggling little something inside of me that thinks, ‘Can I _really_ trust her?’ Who can I trust anymore besides Peggy? I don’t know how to answer that.

I shake it off. “As soon as you can, Rose, start writing up your notes. I want as much information as soon as I can get it about this. I know the higher-ups are going to start knocking on my door.”

“I’ll start it right now while I’m waiting, Chief,” she says. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Baxter said that Colonel Phillips called, looking for Peggy. He needs her to call as soon as possible. It’s urgent, he said.”

“Got it. I’ll tell her. Thanks, Rose.”

I hang up the phone, making the decision to tell Peggy about Phillips after she gets some rest. The last thing she needs is more stress. I grab my suitcase and start digging around for clean clothes. A shower sounds like a good idea for me, too.

The water must have shut off while I was on the phone with Rose, because Peggy comes out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel.

I have to smile. “Nice outfit.”

“Thought I’d save us the time,” she says, dropping the towel and revealing herself to me. She approaches me and I stand. As soon as she reaches me, her arms wrap around my neck. Instinctively, my hands go around her waist.

“You need sleep, Peggy.”

“I need you, Daniel.”

I close my eyes, resolute to the fact that I will give in. Professionally, I have little problem anymore denying her resources for a mission that I think needs more thorough planning or is flat-out a bad idea. But personally, I can't deny her anything. And she know it.

“If I try to sleep right now,” she says, “the only thing that will happen is I will see Michael being shot. All I have been thinking about since the mine is how I could have stopped this from happening.”

“You couldn’t. Neither of us saw this coming.”

“If I had done my job better, rooting out HYDRA operatives, I would have caught Neal--”

“Peggy, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Yes, I can, and I do.” She lays her head on my shoulder. “I am tired of thinking, Daniel. I just want to feel. Even if it’s just for a short time.”

She looks up at me and our lips meet immediately. Her hands slip from around my neck to my trousers, working the hook and zipper. I take care of my shirt and undershirt. As soon as my pants hit the floor, she gives me a light shove and I sit roughly on the bed. I get it; she's telling me to hurry up.

She crawls on the bed behind me as I take care of my prosthetic. Her insistent fingernails running along my spine make my hands move double-time, getting the leg off and on the floor in no time. I turn to face her. Seeing her naked body on the bed flips a switch in me. I can’t help it. My body responds immediately.

“Oh bloody hell,” she says with a sigh. “I didn’t think you would be here, so I left the diaphragm at home.”

I bend down to my suitcase and pull out a paper box, then retrieve a packet from it. “Good thing I was prepared.” 

The smile that lights up her face makes my heart race. “I knew there was a reason why I love you so much, Daniel.”

“I love you, too, Peg.”

“Then show me,” she says, opening her arms to me. 

I want nothing more than to do just that. I want to make love to her slowly, take both of our minds off of what has happened, but she has something else in mind.

She roughly pulls me to her, her lips slamming against mine as her tongue thrusts into my mouth. Her hands are all over, starting in my arms, then my back, my hips, then my ass. She bucks her hips against mine, over and over again, the friction too much. If she doesn't stop...

I pull back from the kiss. “Peg, slow down.”

“I don't want slow,” she says, pushing my boxers down and grasping me in her hand. “I need you, Daniel. Right now.”

She pulls my hand to settle between her legs. Jesus, she wasn't kidding. She's already wet. So much for slow. 

I fumble on the side table for the condom, ripping open the packet. I barely get the damn thing on when she pushes me into my back and climbs on me.

“Peggy…”

She lifts up as I guide myself to her entrance. Almost as if her knees give out, she sinks onto me. She lets out a guttural moan and braces her hands in my chest, then sets a marathon pace, moving up and slamming back down. There's nothing gentle about it. It's straddling that pleasure/pain line but I'm not about to tell her to stop. Hell no. If she wants fast and hard, fast and hard it is.

I move my hands to her hips, lifting her up and letting her drop back down. One of her hands moves away from my chest and I open my eyes long enough to see it had moved between us. 

“Peg, I'm not gonna last…”

“Go,” she says. “I'm right behind you. God!”

She barely finishes talking before I tense up, electricity shooting through every part of my body. I have no idea if it's seconds or minutes before I come back to reality, just in time to hear her gasp and feel her pulsing around me. I open my eyes to see her head thrown back, beautiful neck stretched and tense. The fingernails on her one hand are digging into my chest but I don't care. Her head flops forward and she opens her eyes. She lets out a weak laugh and collapses into me, our bodies still connected. 

“Thank you,” she mumbles against my chest.

“Did you just thank me for what could be our fastest sex ever?”

She huffs out a laugh and gives a light slap on the arm. “No, not for that, though it was exactly what I needed.”

You're not the only one, Peggy.

“I am thanking you for listening to me,” she says. “For always being here for me.”

I tighten my arms around her. “I'm your husband. Of course I am here for you. Always.”

“I know you are. You have no idea what that means to me.”

You're wrong, Peg. I know exactly what it means to both of us.

\------

The ringing of the phone startles me. I wake up on my side, with one of Daniel’s arms under my head and the other draped over my waist. How long have we been asleep?

I wiggle out of Daniel’s embrace. “Who has this phone number?”

“Not sure,” Daniel says, still groggy.

I pick up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Carter,” says the gruff voice with a hint of a Southern accent.

I feel my spine straighten. “Colonel Phillips.”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says. 

“No, sir, just in the middle of a mission.”

“I’ve heard all about that mission, and so has the vice president. That is exactly why I am calling. HYDRA has upped the ante. We need to up ours.”

I don’t answer, hoping he will continue because I am not sure what he means.

“At oh-seven-hundred tomorrow, Stark will have a plane on the tarmac at Miramar, which is not too far from your hotel. You will get on that aircraft bound for New York. Then you and I will tour the bunker. The vice president has lit a fire under our butts. I don’t like fires lit under my butt, so I’m passing it on to you and Stark. This agency will be operational sooner rather than later. I want a skeleton crew in place within two weeks.”

“Sir, my brother is in the hospital--”

“As I said, Carter, I know about your mission. I am sorry about your brother, but this is not negotiable. I will see you in New York tomorrow.”

I say, “But, sir,” but realize he already has disconnected the call. I hang up the receiver and look at Daniel. 

“I have to go to New York to meet with Howard and Colonel Phillips.”

“Did he say why?”

“Word has gotten around quickly about the HYDRA operation we destroyed, and that it has ‘lit a fire under our butts,’ his words, not mine.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning the new agency is being fast-tracked.” I shake my head. The timing could not be worse. “I can’t leave, not without knowing if...” I can’t bring myself to say that Michael may not make it.

“Peggy, I will check in on Ruth and Michael every day,” Daniel says. “And Rose will be here as well, as protection and as a friend. You can’t disobey a direct order from your boss.” He smiles. “Oh wait, you’re Peggy Carter.”

That earns him a smile and a light punch to the arm. I get out of bed and head for my bag, hoping I have one more outfit in it. I do, and that will have to last me for tomorrow. It’s late already and I have no desire to drive back to Los Angeles to pack and drive back here. I still have some clothes at Howard’s townhouse, and I know Ana has some clothes at Howard’s mansion as well.

I start to settle back into bed, back into my husband’s arms, when the phone rings. 

“What is it about us and phones always interrupting?” I ask as I pick up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Peggy, it’s Rose. Just wanted you to know that Ruth is in seeing Michael right now. The nurse said only one family member at a time, but I figured you’d want to be here.”

“Yes, Rose, thank you so much for calling. I will be there momentarily.” I hang up the phone.

“They are allowing Ruth to see Michael,” I say to Daniel. “I need to see him at least once before I go.”

Grabbing my clothes from the mine, I start to get dressed. Daniel gets out of bed and puts on his underwear and prosthetic. 

“You don’t have to go,” I say, slipping on my shirt, ignoring the scorch marks from the explosion.

“You’re right. I don’t.” He continues dressing.

“Stubborn man.”

“Married to a stubborn woman. We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

I smile. “That we are.”

We finish getting dressed and head out of the hotel toward the hospital. It is a quick walk across the street. When we reach the waiting room, we find Rose there, writing frantically in a yellow notepad. She looks up at our approach.

“Hi, Chief, Peggy,” she says, giving me a once-over. “Ruth is still in with Michael.”

“Did they say anything? Any change?” I am hopeful but know the answer before Rose gives it.

“The doctor said he's not awake yet.”

I sit down only to immediately stand as Ruth enters the waiting room. She looks shell-shocked. This cannot be good news.

She sees me and puts on a forced smile. “He's in room eighteen, right around the corner. His color looks good. The nurse says his vitals are steady. That’s a good sign. It’s important that his blood pressure remains steady.” She pauses, the smile fading. “He… he…” A small gasp leaves her lips.

“It's okay, Ruth,” I say, reaching out to take her hand.

The dam breaks, tears flowing down her cheeks as she pulls away. “It’s not okay, Peggy. It's not okay! What am I going if he doesn't make it? He and Jimmy are my everything. What are Jimmy and I going to do?” Her gaze meets mine and I feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest.

Rose saves me by wrapping an arm around Ruth’s shoulder. “Hey, none of that talk. He just got out of surgery. Give him some time to heal. He will be up and around in no time. Now, remember you promised to go to the hotel. You need some rest.”

Ruth practically collapses against Rose, and she lets the agent lead her toward the waiting room exit. Rose gives me a sorrowful look over her shoulder as they leave.

I don't want the tears to come but it happens anyway. I feel Daniel’s arm around me. I could retreat into his arms, let him take me back to the hotel where I can cry in peace. But I can't. I need to see Michael. I roughly brush away the fallen tears and pull away from Daniel. 

I walk out of the waiting room and follow the signs to room eighteen. Agent Greene is standing guard, and he nods to me. I nod back, take a deep breath and open the door.

I hold back a gasp as I enter the room. The tubes and wires connected to him do not bother me. What brings tears to my eyes again is the bandage encompassing nearly his entire head. The right side has a long, dark red line, no doubt from the surgery scar. 

A young, blonde-haired nurse stands at the side of the bed, hanging an IV bag on a metal hook. She turns to me and gives me a friendly smile.

I smile back, half-hearted as it is. “How is he?” 

“It will be touch and go for the next few days,” the nurse says, “but he is holding his own right now. Go ahead, you can talk to him.”

“Do you think he can hear me?”

The nurse shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. But it doesn’t hurt to let him know you’re here.”

She offers another smile and leaves the room. I step closer to the bed and reach out to touch his arm. He's warm. He's alive. I take his hand in mine.

“Michael, I am so sorry. I had no idea that…” My voice cracks and I fight back the tears. “If you can hear me, please forgive me. I give you my promise, the same I gave to Ruth. I will do everything in my power to bring down HYDRA. And I will do everything in my power to protect you and your family.”

I could have sworn I felt him squeeze my hand, ever so lightly. Did that just happen? I look at his face but his expression hasn't changed. No, it must be my imagination. 

“I need to go out of town,” I say, “but I will be back as soon as I can. I expect you to be awake and ready for me to give you the tongue-lashing of your life.”

I give his hand a squeeze but feel nothing in return. It _was_ my imagination. I would do anything to feel him squeeze my hand, to see that sly smirk, to hear him utter something sarcastic. 

I want my brother back so badly it hurts.


	15. Chapter 15

As soon as we land, I realize Colonel Phillips will deliver on his promise of a tour as soon as I arrive. He is standing in front of a black sedan, a driver barely visible through the windshield. Despite being a retired colonel, he still dresses in uniform, his beige uniform crisp. He is holding his cap in his hand, the gold eagle glistening in the sunlight.

The airplane stairs descend, and I walk down to the tarmac, my bag slung over my shoulder. Colonel Phillips meets me halfway between the plane and car, his hand extended. 

“Agent Carter,” he says, shaking my hand.

“Colonel Phillips.”

He immediately turns and heads back to the car. I follow, and both of us climb into the back of the sedan.

“Corporal,” Phillips says, “you know where to take us.”

I see the driver’s head dip. “Yes, sir.” He puts the car in drive and we pull away from the plane.

“How was your flight, Carter?”

“Ridiculously luxurious,” I say. Howard insisted on making sure I was comfortable, and the scantily dressed stewardess kept asking me every ten minutes if I needed anything. Luckily I have perfected the ‘speak to me again and I will make sure you never speak to anyone again’ look, as she left me alone after that.

Phillips’ mouth quivers, as if wanting to sprout a smile but unable to. “Don’t get used to it. When it’s on the government’s dime, you’ll be lucky if they don’t want you to flap your arms here.”

He is unusually animated. I should be concerned. A talkative Phillips is never a good sign. 

“Stark is meeting us at the bunker,” he says, looking forward. “It’s not as done as it should be, but we should be able to start hiring agents within two weeks. There should be one wing that is habitable within a week. People will just have to get used to working with dust flying and hammers banging.”

He turns to me. “I have a list of the top federal agents in the country that will be used as a starting point for recruitment. Hoover will get his knickers in a knot if he finds out we have some of his people in the crosshairs but it’s a chance I’ll take. We need the best.”

“Yes, sir. I agree.” 

“I’d like for you to look that list, give me some feedback.” I nod, and he continues. “Also, the War Department is planning another shake-up, which is good timing for us.”

“May I ask what the shake-up involves?” I have a terrible feeling it involves a certain agency with the initials SSR.

“We’ll talk about that once we get to the bunker.” And with that, he is completely silent the rest of the ride. I don’t think he even blinked. I keep looking at his chest to make sure he is still breathing.

I have known this man for years, worked with him closely in and out of war, and still I have no idea what makes him tick. I suppose it will remain one of life’s mysteries.

We pull up to a nondescript building in a nondescript location on the outskirts of Brooklyn. The gray one-story warehouse building is housed with two other gray one-story warehouse buildings in an industrial area not far from Fort Hamilton.

I exit the car, with Phillips close behind. He steps in front of me and sweeps his wallet over a card reader that I didn’t even notice was a card reader; it is a plaque for the name of a company called ‘New York Electrical Supply’. Not as creative as the Auerbach Theatrical Agency but it makes sense that this type of company would need a warehouse.

“Welcome to The Bunker,” he says, motioning me to enter. The interior of the building is filled with boxes stacked several feet high on wooden pallets. Fluorescent lighting, sparsely placed and high on the ceiling, cast shadows between the stacks. 

“If anyone gets curious, all of these boxes contain actual electrical supplies. We have guards posted, posing as warehouse employees.”

It’s an impressive staging, feeling like an average warehouse. Phillips moves in front of me, walking quickly through the warehouse area. At the back of the building is an innocent-looking door. Phillips opens the door and switches on a light inside the room, which turns out to be a broom closet. He steps inside and motions for me to follow. The room is tiny, barely large enough for the both of us and the metal shelving lining its three walls. Phillips pushes against one of the shelves in the back, and the shelving moves, revealing an opening in the wall. 

I smile as I look at the opening. It looks like another wall. Phillips presses something on one of the shelves, and the second wall moves aside, revealing an elevator car.

“This was Stark’s idea,” he says. “He’s been in Hollywood too long.”

“Howard always does have a flair for the dramatic,” I say as I step inside the elevator. 

It’s an odd elevator in that there are no buttons to press. Phillips steps in, then digs in his pocket. He produces a small key, which he places in a keyhole in the elevator wall. A panel next to the door moves up to reveal a set of buttons. Phillips presses the bottom button and the elevator door closes. 

We descend slowly yet smoothly, how many floors I do not know. It feels like a long distance. I know it’s a bunker but I have not seen the dimensions or its depth.

“How far down are we?”

“Half a mile,” Phillips says as the door slides opens to a hallway, which would be uneventful, except for the large American flag displayed on the wall across from the elevator. Phillips walks forward toward the flag, then takes a right. I exit the elevator and keep time with him.

“To the right is what is ready, or almost ready, so far. It’s a good start but not moving as quickly as I would like. My ire does not seem to motivate Howard Stark.”

I smile. “Howard Stark is the only person who motivates Howard Stark.”

“Some things never change,” Phillips grumbles.

On either side of us are doors, presumably to offices. Several feet from that is a large plate glass window that houses a lab, one that looks much like the lab in Howard’s California mansion. From the left side walks Howard, and he waves. I wave back. Phillips does not.

“Hi, Peg,” Howard says, opening the lab door. “You like the new digs?”

Phillips and I enter the lab, and the three of us gather around a barren, dust-laden table with four chairs.

I run a finger over the table. “It’s rustic, that’s for sure.”

“Cleaners will take care of that after we’re done,” Howard says, waving me off.

Phillips turns to Howard. “This will be operational within a week, correct?”

“Absolutely, Colonel. Just this part of it, which will consist of a few offices, a small bullpen area and this lab. The other two buildings will take longer.”

“Buildings, plural?” I ask.

Howard nods. “The three buildings in this complex are all cover. The entire underground will span the length of all three. Eventually you’ll be able to get in and out through entrances in every building. Plans are to have the rest built out in the next two months. We’ll have three labs, several offices, two conference rooms. It’s going to accommodate dozens of people. All you have to do is find the people.”

Howard is right. It’s one thing to build a facility. It’s another to fill that facility with qualified, trustworthy people. We know that HYDRA has infiltrated the SSR as well as other federal agencies. That cannot happen with this one. 

“Do we have a name for this agency yet?” I ask.

Howard says, “Yes,” as Phillips says, “No.”

I nod. Howard has something in mind that Phillips does not like.

Howard lifts his chin, obvious pride in his eyes. “Strategic and Technical Agency for Research and Kinesthesia.”

Phillips looks at me, his hound-dog eyes even more hooded. “S.T.A.R.K.,” he says.

I shake my head. “Howard, what in the bloody blue blazes does kinesthesia mean?”

Howard huffs. “Don’t worry about it. I'm having trouble with the K, but I'll figure it out. Look, no one else seems to have a better idea.”

“Surely we can come up with something that makes more sense.” And doesn’t have STARK as its initials.

Phillips nods and turns his focus to me. “And that will be your first job.”

“I’m sorry? My first job for what?”

“Stark and I, as well as a few others, have discussed it and we want you to be the director of the new agency.”

Wait, what? Me? Is he joking?

“Sir, I… I assumed you were asking for my help as a consultant. I didn’t… I thought you would be heading it. You are the obvious choice.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me, but I am fine with where I am right now in the War Department.” His expression softens, which is a sight I have rarely seen. “I may look like a spry young pup but I am old, Carter, too old to be starting an agency from the ground up. I’ve done my time with that. Now it’s your turn.”

“But, sir…” Do I have to say yes? Do I have a choice? What will this mean? I will have to move to New York, with Daniel in Los Angeles…

“I understand your hesitation,” Phillips says, interrupting my panicked thoughts. “It would require you to move back to the East Coast. You’ll want to discuss it with your husband first.”

I feel my eyes widen and my blood pressure rise. How does he know about my marriage?

I shoot a look to Howard, who looks surprised. His hands go up. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell anyone.”

A smile graces Phillips’ craggy face. “You should know by now that I have eyes and ears everywhere. You and Daniel Sousa just got married at Stark’s Los Angeles spread. Small affair, outdoor ceremony. Someone got bit by a flamingo. Can’t do normal, can you, Carter?”

I see Howard’s smirk and give him a stern look. It just makes his smirk widen.

“I may be a crotchety old coot,” Phillips continues, “but I understand affairs of the heart. Let me make the decision a little easier on you. As of the end of this month, the Strategic Scientific Reserve is being disbanded.”

“Disbanded? As in no more?” Daniel...

“Not completely. The SSR will be rebuilt into a department within this new agency, the scientific unit, if you will. I have someone in mind who will lead the transition and head the unit. Normally this would be the director’s decision but I am making this one for you.”

“May I ask who it is?”

“You may not,” Phillips says matter-of-factly.

I look at Howard and he shrugs.

“Do I have the option to say no, Colonel?”

“You always have the option to say no,” Phillips answers. “However, you will have to say no to the vice president. I submitted your name to him and he approved. It's above my head now. He is looking forward to meeting you.”

In other words, I cannot say no.

“Sir, I do need to discuss this with Daniel.”

“Understood,” Phillips says. “I would appreciate it that you would not mention anything we have discussed here.”

I get his meaning loud and clear. I can’t tell Daniel that the SSR will be gone in a matter of weeks.

“Yes, sir. Also, I do need to see to the rehabilitation of my brother. He is in California, still unconscious. We’re not sure…” If he will make it.

“Peg, fly him here,” Howard says. “I have some of the best medical minds in the world working for me at the Malibu facility. If they can’t help him, they’ll know someone who can. He’ll have the best care possible here.”

“I don’t know that he’s stable enough to fly.”

“Talk to his doctors. If it’s at all possible, get him out here.”

I refrain from sighing in relief. “Thank you, Howard.”

“Carter,” Phillips says, “I want your answer by this time tomorrow. I expect you will be traveling back to California.”

“Yes, I was going to go back first thing tomorrow, if possible.”

Phillips nods. “Fine, but you will be back here within a week. In the meantime, review the list I gave you and provide me with feedback when you call me tomorrow to tell me you will be accepting the position.”

I bite back a smile. “Yes, sir.”

With that, Phillips turns away from us and leaves the lab.

I immediately look at Howard. “Why didn’t you warn me he was going to do this?”

“He told me not to. Plus, you’ve been dealing with your brother. I didn’t want to add to your stress.”

“That would be a first for you,” I say. “You must be mellowing in your old age.”

He gives me a mock offended look. “Bite your tongue, Peg.”

“I guess I should leave to call Daniel. Any chance I can catch a ride, as mine just left?”

“You need a place to stay? Me mansion es su mansion, as always.”

“Actually, I was going to stay overnight with Angie at the townhouse.”

“Oooh, pajama party,” he says with a smirk. “Room for one more?”

“If it’s you, absolutely not.”

He gives me a pouty look. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m married, remember?”

“Yeah, like I said, no fun. But I’ll still give you a lift to the townhouse.”

I pat the lapel of his jacket. “I knew there was a heart in there somewhere.”


	16. Chapter 16

Even though I had called Angie to tell her I would be here, I still ring the doorbell instead of using my key. This townhouse is no longer my home, so I should act like a guest. Within a few seconds, the door flings open and Angie is there, big grin and wide eyes. Her arms immediately go around my neck.

“English! I was so glad you called. I’m so happy to see you. Why did you ring the doorbell? You have a key.”

“I know,” I say, hugging her back. “Wanted to make sure you weren’t entertaining a gentleman friend.”

Angie breaks the embrace and barks out a bitter laugh as she walks into the sitting room. “Like that’s going to happen. Seems like the only guys out there are married or creeps.” She stops and looks back at me. “Or both.”

I follow her into the room and watch as she flops down on the sofa, tucking her legs under her skirt. I take one of the chairs and sink into the plush cushions.

“What happened to the guy you told me about at the wedding? What was his name? Joe?”

She huffs. “He was in the ‘both’ category.”

“Oh, Angie, I’m so sorry. You’ll find Mr. Right.”

She huffs again. “No, I believe I am destined to be part of the old maids’ club.”

“No you’re not! There’s someone out there for you. You just have to find him.” I pause and smile at my own situation. “It may take time. Trust me, I know this from experience.”

“I know,” she says, a big smile on her face. “Never thought I’d see the day that you would be married.”

Believe me, darling, no one is more surprised than I. 

“Maybe living at one of Stark’s homes is a good luck charm,” she continues. “It worked for you. That does give me some hope, though it hasn’t helped so far.”

“Are you still paying Howard rent?” Angie had started that after I went to California. Howard claims he never asked for rent but she insists on giving it to Mr. Jarvis when he visits to make sure the maids have done their job. Mr. Jarvis told me he takes the rent money and uses it to pay for groceries and such that he sneaks into the townhouse. According to him, Angie is none the wiser so far.

She nods. “I know it's a pittance compared to what he could really get, but it makes me feel like I’m not a complete freeloader.”

“You're not a freeloader. This place goes unused most of the time.”

“I know, but I also pay rent so Stark will not think he is owed any favors, if you know what I mean.”

I scoff. “Howard knows better than that. He'd have to answer to me.”

“Thanks,” she says with a sad smile. “Nice to know someone has my back.”

“Of course I do, always. Why do you say that?”

She sighs. “I don't know. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I went for an audition yesterday, a part I really wanted and would be so good at. And I got understudy. Again.”

“Well, that's good,” I say, trying to be encouraging. 

She sighs again. “That's the third time this year I've missed out on a prime role just to play second fiddle. Always the understudy, never the star.”

“You'll be a star, Angie. I truly believe it.”

Her lips curl into that sweet Angie smile. “English, I’ve missed you so much. You're good for my ego.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

We grin at each other, the friendship we had two years ago fully intact. That’s something I’ve come to learn: true friends always are there, no matter if time or distance separate you.

“Actually,” I continue, “you may be seeing more of me. I have a job opportunity that would have me moving back to the east coast.”

Angie’s mouth opens and her eyes go wide. “Really? That’s the best news I’ve had all month!” She grins. “A new phone company job?”

I laugh. “Yes, exactly, except I’ll be running my own.”

“Wow,” she says, nodding in approval. “You’re moving up in the world. Talk about being a star.” Her face tightens into a scowl. “But how will that work with you here and the hubby in California?”

I sigh. “That’s why I am calling it an opportunity and not a definite job. He and I need to discuss it.” I shake my head. “I’m not used to having someone else to consider when thinking about my future.”

“That’s not a bad thing, you know,” she says with a soft smile. “You have someone who adores you and wants the best for you. There’s nothing like that in the world.”

I can’t help but smile as I think of Daniel. “You’re absolutely right. I will call Daniel later tonight. Time difference and all.”

“Tell him I said hi,” Angie said, then her face lights up with a smile. “And ask him when I’m going to be an aunt.”

My mouth drops open. “Angie! I will do no such thing.” I can’t believe she just said that. 

She laughs. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Maybe.” I shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, even though the image of Daniel with Jimmy on his lap sneaks into my head.

“You know, you’re not getting any younger, Peggy.”

Am I talking to Angie Martinelli or my mum? Good Lord.

“Angie, I’ve been married less than a week,” I say, indignant. “And I’m not _that_ old.”

‘I’m just sayin’, you can’t deprive the world of the beautiful children you two would have. Plus, you can’t deprive me the chance to be called Auntie Angie.” She suddenly frowns. “You will let them call me Auntie Angie, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” I say with a smile. “But you may have to wait a little while longer. With the possible new job and moving back here, I don’t think it’s in our immediate future.”

She shrugs. “As long as it’s in some part of your future, and I get to be in that future, I’m happy.”

“You will, Angie, I promise. You’re a very important part of my life.”

“You’re gonna make me cry, English.” She sniffs for effect, then her eyes brighten again. “Hey, are you hungry? I brought you some of the Automat’s finest fare.” She jumps up from the couch and heads toward the kitchen.

I shake my head. Angie has the innate ability to switch subjects faster than one can blink. It’s yet another reason why I do love her so. I follow her into the kitchen and arrive just in time to see her open the icebox.

“Turkey on white, ham on rye, and cherry and blueberry pie slices. Oh, and Frank’s peach cobbler. Got the last piece. You get first dibs.” She leans into the icebox and pulls out a bottle of wine. “And thanks to Mr. J., we have a fine beverage.”

So much for Angie being none the wiser. And when did she start calling him Mr. J.? I've been gone from New York longer than I thought. I take all of the dishes from the icebox and spread them out on the dining table.

Angie pops the cork on the wine. “We don’t need wine glasses, do we?”

I take the bottle and take a swig. “Why dirty them?”

Angie laughs. “I’m so glad you’re here, English.”

“So am I.” 

This is exactly what I need right now. No talk of Michael, no talk of HYDRA. Just my dear friend and I, talking about nothing and everything.

\---------

I’m not in the door ten seconds and the phone rings. Figures. Between work and driving to San Diego and back, my day has been chaotic. Why should my evening be any different?

“Sousa,” I say before I can catch myself. I’m at home, not at work, but I can’t seem to throw that switch so quickly.

“Hello, Sousa.” That sharp British accent makes me smile every time. 

“Hi, beautiful.”

I hear her laugh. “How do you know I’m beautiful? I could be sitting here in ratty old pajamas and no makeup. As a matter of fact, I am.”

“You’re still beautiful.”

“You’re quite smooth, Mr. Sousa.”

“Only when it comes to you, Mrs. Sousa,” I say with a laugh. “How did it go? Did you get your bunker tour?”

She sighs. “I got a lot more than that, I’m afraid.”

“What happened?”

“I got a job offer,” she said softly.

“Really?”

I’ve been wondering if Phillips would offer her a job. Why else would he be asking her to consult? She’s the best agent the SSR has. It makes sense he would want her for this new agency. I’ve thought this a while but never told her, just in case I was wrong. But deep down, I knew I wasn’t, and what she said confirms it.

“You’ll be the first agent of this new agency,” I say. “That’s quite an honor.”

“Um, actually...” She pauses, which isn’t Peggy. Why is she being so hesitant?

“Actually what?”

“I… I was offered the job of director.”

Whoa. I wasn’t expecting that. Not that she’s not qualified, she is. I just figured Phillips would take the reins.

“Peggy, that’s great,” I say, and I mean it. “You already know this agency inside and out. Phillips made the right choice. When do you start?”

“I don’t, yet.”

“What? You turned him down?”

“No, no. I told him I wanted to discuss it with my husband first.”

A smile stretches my lips impossibly wide. “I appreciate that. I wholeheartedly support whatever you do.”

“I know you do, Daniel, and I can’t tell you how much that means.”

“As far as me being in California, we’ll make it work,” I say. “We did it for a year when you were traveling so much. It’s not ideal, but it’s doable.”

She doesn’t answer me, which is not like her. What isn’t she telling me?

“Peggy? You okay?”

She clears her throat. “Yes, fine. Just, um, tired. Jetlag, I suppose.”

Jetlag, my ass. “You know more than you’re saying but you’ve been told to keep your mouth shut.” 

The only thing I hear is the slight static of the phone connection, which confirms my suspicions. I know exactly why she’s hesitating. 

“The SSR is going the way of the dinosaur,” I say. She doesn’t respond but she doesn’t need to. I know I’m right. “I’m not surprised. I assumed that was coming. The SSR was a wartime agency. It makes sense it would be disestablished after the war. We’re lucky we made it this long.”

She sighs. “I can’t say anything. I’m sorry, Daniel. You know I would tell you if I could.”

“I know you would,” I say. “Hey, this makes your decision even easier. I don’t have anything tying me down to California. We’ll move back east. I’ll find something there once we get settled.”

“Daniel…”

“Peg, I’m fine with you wearing the pants in the family for a while. You look great in pants.”

She laughed, just the reaction I wanted to hear. “How do you always say the right thing?”

“It’s a gift,” I quip.

“Hmmm. Indeed.” She pauses, then says, “I’ll be back in California tomorrow. My flight leaves first thing in the morning so hopefully I can be there by lunch. We’ll talk more then, but I will need to drive to San Diego as well. Is there any change with Michael?”

I was afraid she was going to ask that. “I wish I had good news for you. Nothing has changed. He’s still unconscious.”

“How is Ruth?”

“Doing as well as she can,” I say, not telling her about Ruth’s breakdown in the hospital waiting room earlier tonight. Rose handled it perfectly, taking her back to the hotel room to rest. “Rose staying with her is helping.”

“Good.” I hear a yawn on the other end of the phone.

“Get some sleep, Peg.”

“Yes, I will certainly try, though I’d prefer it be with you.”

“Not nearly as much as I do,” I say, trying not to think about how much I miss her curled up next to me.

“Goodnight, Daniel. I love you.”

“I love you, too. ‘Night.”

As I hang up the receiver, I feel a light blanket of sadness cover me. The SSR has been my life since the war. I’ve done things others thought I never could do, and things even I questioned I could do. I went from a glorified file clerk to running an entire office. The SSR means a lot to me, and it always will, but Peggy means more. 

My wife, the director of a new federal agency. I should feel belittled or inadequate, letting my wife be the breadwinner. Most men would. Guess I’m not most men. The only thing I feel right now is pride. In the end, the SSR, and wherever I end up on the east coast, is just a job. Peggy is my life.


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks to the damn alarm not going off, because I didn’t set it, I pull up to the Auerbach Theatrical Agency nearly an hour after I wanted to. As I open the door, I see Aileen sitting at her desk, eyes as wide as the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. I follow her gaze to see someone sitting in a chair. Someone quite familiar and someone I never would have expected.

“Good morning,” Chester Phillips says.

I take a deep breath and let it out quietly. “Good morning, sir. I hope you haven't been waiting long.”

“Long enough, but that's not important. Take a walk with me, Sousa.”

Phillips stands and walks out the door that I had left open. I look at Aileen and she shrugs. 

“He’s been here about twenty minutes, Chief.” 

I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying ‘shit’ out loud. I leave my hat and briefcase with her. 

“I'll put these in your office,” she says with a weak smile.

I mouth ‘thank you’ to her and rush out the door.

Phillips is halfway down the block and it takes me a minute and some of my fastest walking to catch up to him.

“Nice weather here in California,” Phillips says. “A little warm but not bad. I can see why you like it.”

“Yes, sir.” 

He looks at me and gives me what I think is a smile.

“You probably know what I am about to say next,” Phillips says.

“I am guessing it has to do with the future of the Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

“You’ve spoken with Carter.”

I nod. “I have but the only thing she told me was about her job offer. I am assuming she told you we are married.”

“You assume wrong,” Phillips says.

I couldn’t help the shock showing on my face. I thought she had to tell him since she needed time to talk to me about it. 

“Don’t be so shocked, Sousa,” Phillips continues. “I have people everywhere. You should know that by now. Carter didn’t need to tell me anything. And honestly, I don't give a rosy red rat’s ass about your personal life, or Carter’s, or anyone else’s for that matter. All I care about is getting this agency up and running. Which brings me to the first reason I am here.”

I wait for the shoe to drop, and it does.

“I won’t sugarcoat it,” he says. “The SSR will be disbanded, effective in three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” I thought we had longer than that. A lot longer.

“Did I stutter?” 

“No, sir.”

“Most of the equipment and a select few of the personnel from both SSR offices will be transferred to the new agency, as part of its science unit. And that brings me to the second reason why I am here.”

Phillips abruptly turns around and heads back toward Auerbach. I stop and turn as fast as I can and catch back up to him.

“I need someone to oversee the transition,” he continues. “I need that someone to be you. I figure two to three months of transition time.”

Well, at least I get a reprieve of sorts. Two months is better than three weeks. “Yes, sir. I would be happy to help with the transition.”

“That's not all. When the new science unit is operational, I need someone to run it. Again, I need that someone to be you.”

I stop walking but he doesn't. He takes several steps before he realizes I'm not there anymore. I barely notice. He's offering me a job. In New York. To run the SSR’s new incarnation. What he is not doing is offering the job to the chief already on the correct coast.

He stops and turns to me. “Something wrong, Sousa?”

“Sir,” I say, finally getting legs to work to catch up to him, “why me?”

Phillips looks at me as if I've sprouted a second head.

“What I mean,” I continue, “is that technically, Jack Thompson has seniority and he's already in New York. He has been with the SSR--”

I stop talking when I see Phillips’ lips curl into a grimace that might be a smile.

“Son,” he says, “let me tell you a little about myself. I say what I mean. It's a strange personality quirk I have that sometimes get me in trouble. In this case, it isn’t. If I wanted Jack Thompson for the job, I would have asked him. But in case you haven't noticed, I didn't. I am asking you.” He looks at me, and I nod. “I made this decision based on your track record, not your wife’s. If I didn't think you could do the job, we wouldn't be having this little tête-à-tête. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” is all I can manage in response.

“Good. Now I know you'll want to discuss this with Carter.” He must have seen my shock. “She doesn't know about this. She hasn't given me her answer yet, so until then, hiring decisions are up to me. I expect a response from you within twenty-four hours. After that, the offer is off the table.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good,” he says, stopping in front of a black sedan. He opens the back door and sits inside. Before closing the door, he says, “This time tomorrow, Sousa, I want an answer.”

“Yes, sir.” I sound like a damn broken record.

As soon as the door closes, the car pulls away. I look back at the plate-glass window of Auerbach Theatrical Agency, and then it hits me. I have an office full of people who will be out of a job. A few may make the cut, but most of them will be unemployed in three weeks. And since Phillips didn’t say otherwise, I am going to be the one to tell them.

I really hate this part of my job.

\------

As the plane lands at San Diego International Airport, I let out a sigh of relief. It’s hard to believe I was just here less than twenty-four hours ago.

With the strap of the duffel on my shoulder, I stand, waiting for the pilot to open the hatch. He does, and the stairs lower slowly. Stepping off the plane, I see a familiar car and an even more familiar handsome gentleman leaning against said car.

A smile stretches my lips as I take the stairs as quickly as possible. He meets me halfway, and the duffel immediately drops from my grip. Within seconds, I am in my husband’s arms, exactly where I want to be. 

Taking a deep breath, I breathe in his subtle aftershave and the scent that is only him. I wasn’t expecting him to be here but words cannot describe how happy I am that he is. There are so many unknowns in my life right now: whether or not to accept a new job and leave everything I have known for two years to move back east, whether or not Michael will ever wake up… One of the only constants I have is Daniel being here for me. 

I tilt my head up and without giving him a chance to react, I seal my lips to his. The kiss is not shy and not what would be considered appropriate in public. I deepen the kiss even more, wanting nothing more than the rest of the world to disappear, leaving just the two of us.

He abruptly pulls back and looks behind me. “I think we’re giving the airport a show.”

“I don’t care,” I say, tightening my arms around his neck. “Let them look.” Then it dawns on me. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured you would need a ride to the hospital, check in on your brother. And we have a lot to talk about, enough that should fill that drive and then some.” He motioned to the trunk. “I brought you a suitcase with fresh clothes.”

I untangle myself from him and we walk hand in hand to the car. Once we’re inside, he starts the car and drives toward the exit.

“I had a visitor this morning.” He pauses and looks at me. “Chester Phillips.”

“Phillips? But… he was in New York yesterday. How… He must have left not long after meeting with me. Why?”

“No idea. All I know is that he showed up at the office, and of course I was running late. He told me about the SSR.”

I sigh. “I wanted to tell you, I really did.”

“I know, Peg. I’m not upset. You couldn’t say anything. However, that’s not all he had to say.”

“He told you about the short timeline?”

“Yes, which I am not happy about, but he also offered me a job.”

I glance at him, shocked. “Really? With the War Department? What's the position?”

He shook his head. “Not the War Department. With some new as-yet-unnamed agency.” I see a smile curl the corner of his lips. “He wants me to oversee the transition of the SSR into the new science unit, and then he wants me to run that unit.”

After the initial shock, I can’t stop the laughter bubbling up from my chest. Chester Phillips, you sly old fox.

He looks over at me. “What’s so funny?”

“He knew I wouldn’t do it,” I say, shaking my head.

“Do what?”

“I would not hire my husband for fear of how it looked, even though I knew you would be the perfect person for the job. So he hired you himself.” I let out another laugh. “That man never ceased to amaze me.”

“I didn’t accept yet,” he says, smiling. “I told him I had to discuss it with my wife.”

“Well, of course you’re going to accept.”

“What, no discussion? Just ‘you will accept’?”

“I’ll tell you what,” I say, turning in my seat to face him. “You will accept your position and I will accept mine. Deal?”

I offer my hand to him. He takes his right hand off the wheel and shakes my hand. 

“Deal,” he says with a short laugh. “Well, that was easy.”

I keep a grip on his hand and kiss his knuckles. Then I turn his hand over and kiss his palm.

“Peg, I need that,” he says, his hand slipping from my grip. And he does, as he has to use the controls to slow down and catch the turnoff for the hospital parking lot.

I have been wanting to see Michael since I left for New York, but now that I am here, I want to leave. I can’t stand seeing him unconscious, connected to tubes, with no idea if he ever will come back.

As we leave the car, Daniel must see the tension in my posture because he wraps an arm around me and kisses my temple. I thought going after HYDRA was a challenge. This, watching my brother possibly die a second time, is one of the largest and most heart-wrenching challenges of my life.

We step inside the hospital and walk down the hall. I slow my pace as we get to the entrance to the waiting room.

“I should call Phillips,” I say, “to accept the position, get that over with.”

Daniel meets my gaze, and I know he's on to me. I'm stalling but he doesn't call me on it. He simply nods and continues toward the waiting room. I walk to the pay phone and ask the operator to connect me.

The call could wait, undoubtedly. It's not as if Phillips doesn't know my answer. He really did not give me the option to say no, and he knows he sealed my fate when he offered Daniel that job. I wouldn’t want to be on Chester Phillips’ bad side. He’s a formidable man and would be a dangerous enemy, even more so than he was during the war.

Phillips is not available to speak with me, no doubt because he is en route to the east coast after his surprise visit. I have to leave a message with his secretary, who says she was expecting my call.

As I enter the waiting room, Ruth and Rose are laughing, and I see why. Jimmy is there and is trying to crawl up in Daniel's lap but not having much luck.

“Up you go, little one,” Daniel says, lifting the boy and placing him on his good leg.

My heart constricts, watching how natural and at ease Daniel is with children. Sometimes I feel that us holding off on starting a family is cruel, as if I am depriving him of an essential part of life. Of course, now is not the time to start a family, with the two of us trying to start a new agency from the ground up. But when will be the time? As Angie said, I’m not getting any younger.

Ruth gets up from her chair and gives me a hug, which I was not expecting. I haven’t known her long but she has not seemed the type for demonstrative displays.

“I am so glad you are back, Peggy. The doctors told me this morning that his brain activity seems to be improving. They are cautiously optimistic that he will wake up. Isn’t that wonderful news?”

I smile, trying to hide my doubt. “It’s the best news we could hope for.”

I look at Daniel, who is bouncing Jimmy on his knee. The little boy is smiling ear to ear. Daniel looks up at me and smiles. My heart melts yet again.

“Ruth, I do have some news of my own, though I cannot say it is the best news,” I say, sitting down. “I will be moving to the east coast, rather quickly, I'm afraid.”

Rose glances at me immediately, then at Daniel. He raises a hand, as if to say ‘we’ll talk later’. I don’t envy him that discussion, though I know that he will take care of Rose. She’s too valuable an employee and a friend to lose.

“How quickly?” Ruth asks as she sits in a chair next to me.

“I have taken a position that requires me to be back there within a week.”

“A week! But…”

I know she was about to say ‘but Michael won’t be better in a week’.

“The timing could not be worse but also it could not be helped,” I say. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. If you accept, I can arrange for Michael to get care in New York.”

Ruth shakes her head slowly. “I don't know. He's getting very good care here.”

“He is, but Howard Stark has the best medical and scientific minds working for him.”

Rather deftly, Jimmy climbs down from Daniel’s lap and toddles over to Ruth, who picks him up. He catches her necklace in his chubby hand and plays with the pendant.

“But what little we have is here. And the Jarvises have been so wonderful.”

“They will be in New York,” I say with a smile. “That is their full-time residence. I asked Howard to allow them to remain here to help you. Ruth, in this new position, I will have the authority to go after HYDRA. I also will have the authority to fix what, and who, HYDRA has destroyed. I don’t know if it’s possible, but I will dedicate whatever resources I can to finding a way to reverse engineer the brainwashing that has happened to Michael.”

“And Neal?”

I am shocked Ruth mentioned him but I nod. “Anyone we can assist to get out of the physical or mental grips of HYDRA. I give you my word.”

She seems to be considering it but a nurse comes running into the waiting room, a wide smile on her lips.

“Mrs. Carter, come with me, quickly! Your husband is awake!”


	18. Chapter 18

Ruth and I rush down the hall, passing by the nurse and the uniformed policeman, to get inside the room. Michael is in bed, his eyes closed. Maybe she was mistaken? Maybe she thought he woke up? Then his eyelashes fluttered and his eyes slowly opened. He looks at Ruth and smiles.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says with a weak smile.

She moves to the side of the bed and takes his hand. “Of course I am. Where else would I be?”

He then looks past Ruth to me. “Peggy, what are you doing here?” He glances at Ruth. “How did you get her in here? You could get in trouble.”

“It’s okay,” Ruth says. “We’re in a hospital, intensive care. Family is allowed in here.”

His brow furrows, as if she is speaking a foreign language.

“You were shot,” I say. “You had emergency brain surgery.”

“But why would they let me go to a hospital? You and Hazel could work your magic, like you always do.”

I glance at Ruth, and she meets my gaze. Something is wrong. Who is Hazel?

I step forward, standing next to Ruth. “How do you know Hazel?”

“She's a nurse. She takes care of me.” He stops and smiles at Ruth, squeezing her hand. “But this one, she's the best nurse. I'm always happy to see her face.”

Something is very wrong.

“Michael, what year do you think it is?”

He meets my gaze, confusion clouding his features. “What do you mean, what year? I’m fine, Pegleg. I know what year it is. The month I might be a bit fuzzy on, though. We tend to lose time in the facility.”

The facility. He’s back in the war, the early 40s. 

“What are you doing here, Peggy?”

I plaster on a fake smile, hoping it doesn’t look as pained as it feels. “I’m here to see you. Make sure you’re healing well.”

He looks to Ruth again. I can tell he relied on her heavily when he was under HYDRA control.

Ruth smiles. “You’re doing fine. This hospital is giving you good care.” She pauses and glances at me. “But you are not going back to the facility.”

He frowns. “Why? I was doing good work there. They told me I was making a difference.”

“Of course you were,” Ruth says, her voice cracking, “but since you were shot, they decided to release you from duty, to let you heal.”

“But I can go back, right?”

Ruth nods weakly. It’s killing her to lie to him. “We’re going to get you the best care, Michael. It’s on the east coast.”

“We’re going back to the States?”

The door opens to reveal the doctor who did Michael’s surgery, Dr. Arlington. “Well, look who’s awake.” He must have seen the looks on my and Ruth’s face. “How are we doing?”

“If you’re asking about me,” Michael says, “I’m doing fine. When can I get out of here?”

Arlington smiles. “It’s a little soon to talk about that, Mr. Carter. Let’s wait to see how it goes for a day or two, then we’ll have that discussion. The nurse is going to come in and change the dressing on your head. Ladies, you may want to step outside for that.”

Ruth opens her mouth to say something but I put a hand on her arm. “Yes, we will do that.” I glance at Michael. “We’ll be back.”

Arlington opens the door for us, and Ruth and I exit as a nurse enters. The three of us stop a few feet down the hall.

“Call it doctor’s intuition,” Arlington says, “but I get the feeling all is not well.”

I swallow, trying to keep the lump in my throat from leading to tears. “He’s lost several years of time.”

Arlington nods slowly. “A trauma such as what Mr. Carter suffered almost always has consequences. As I said before, the area of the brain affected deals with memory. It isn’t uncommon for this to happen.”

But, doctor, you don’t understand. Michael’s situation is anything but common.

“Doctor, what are the chances that he could regain all of his memory?” Ruth asks.

The doctor shrugs. “We just don’t know enough about the human brain for me to give you a definitive answer. He may regain it. He may not.” He glances at the door. “I should get in there, make sure everything is healing. Just give him some time. He’s come a long way already and has defied the odds. I’m not supposed to say this as a doctor, but I would put money on him making a full recovery.”

He nods and walks to the door. Ruth and I are left standing in the hall, staring at each other, unsure what to do next.

“Peggy, he doesn’t know he has a son. He doesn’t know we are married. The past three years are gone.” Tears well in her eyes. “If he thinks he’s in the facility, he’s still under HYDRA control.”

“I know but we’ll fix it. We’ll take him to back east and get Howard’s people working on something.”

“On what? I don’t know if this is fixable.” 

“It is,” I say sharply. “I will make sure it happens.”

“How?”

I wish I knew.

\----------

Peggy and I walk back to the hotel, where she still has a room. On our way there, she tells me about her brother and her concern about his stability.

Once we get into the room, I call the office and tell Baxter to send three extra agents for guard duty. That leaves us with a skeleton crew, and I think about swallowing my pride and calling Jack for reinforcements but decide against it. By now he likely has heard from Phillips about the short future of the SSR, and he may have heard about my new position. The last thing Jack will want to do is do me a favor.

While I am on the phone, Peggy kicks off her shoes and slips off her jacket. She starts pacing; I can tell the wheels are turning in her head.

I hang up the phone. “Greene, Speaker and Franklin are on their way. We’ll have two people on him at all times, one of our guys and a uniform.”

She nods absently, still pacing. “We should head back to L.A. I have to start packing. And I’ll need to talk to Howard for temporary housing, oh, and about getting Michael back east, I’ll need--”

“Peg, slow down. You don’t have to do everything tonight.”

“I know, but there’s so much to do.”

“And we’ll get it done. Come here.” I wrap my arms around her, relieved as her tense posture starts to relax.

“Our lives are going to be moving at maximum speed from here on out,” I say. “How about we take a few minutes for ourselves. We were just married, remember?”

She sighs against my neck. “I know. I bet you’re regretting it.”

“Never, Peg.” I frame her face with my hands, forcing her to look in my eyes. “I will never regret marrying you. I knew what I was getting into, and I wouldn’t be anywhere else but by your side. No matter what.”

She gives me a quick kiss. “I am a very lucky woman.”

“Yes, you are.”

She laughs, which is music to my ears. She kisses me again, but this one is by no means quick. It’s deep and demanding, and I am more than happy to return it. She needs escape from all of the emotions and frustrations brewing inside of her, and I know exactly what that release needs to entail. 

Her hands go to my shirt, deftly working the buttons, as I do the same to her blouse. Her brassiere and my undershirt go next, our lips barely parting the entire time. We’re talented like that, maintaining a lip lock as clothes hit the floor. Before I know it, she’s completely undressed and pulling me toward the bed by the waistband of my trousers. She turns us so that my back is to the bed. In seconds, the belt, hook and zipper are undone, and she lightly pushes me. Before my butt hits the bed, she is kneeling in front of me. I lift up and push the trousers and underwear over my leg and prosthetic. She pulls the fabric down and off, then we both work on the straps. We always have made a wonderful team.

Prosthetic off and forgotten on the floor, I push myself back on the bed, then stop.

“Wallet,” I say.

She knows what I need. “Got it.” She fishes on the floor for the trousers and pulls out the wallet. She even knows where I always tuck a condom, quickly finding it and tossing the wallet to the floor. She rips into the paper envelope. Apparently there will be no foreplay tonight, but I’m fine with that. This is what she needs. This is what we both need.

I let her sheath me with the condom, and she immediately straddles my hips. Still holding me in her hand, she guides me in, lowering herself with a satisfied sigh. I match her sigh with a moan. As long as I live, I will never tire of being inside her. 

She leans forward, hands braced on my chest, and moves up and down at a steady pace. As she comes down, I thrust up. She’s angled herself in a way that hits something inside her that makes her moan. I will never tire of that sound, either.

I move my hand between us, my finger settling on the spot I know will send her into oblivion. 

“Daniel.”

The sound of her voice saying my name on an exhale sends a shudder through my body, along with the beginnings of that familiar and welcome lightheadedness. I double my efforts with my finger on that nub, circling with a light pressure, just how she likes it. She lets loose with a long moan, changing pitch from low to high, and I know she’s gone. She pulses around me and it’s too much. My brain shuts off as I follow her over that edge.

I feel her collapse on me and my arms instinctively go around her, hands smoothing over her back. Her breath is warm against my neck and her fingers are drawing lazy circles on my chest. If we could just stay like this for a day or five, I would be an even happier man, but I know that’s not possible, for either of us.

“What am I going to tell my agents?” I ask, not expecting a response but getting one.

“You'll tell them the truth. The SSR is being disbanded and each of them will have the opportunity to apply for a position with the new agency.”

“Some of them may not want to make the move.”

“That's their choice, then,” she says. She's right, of course.

“By the way, I told Rose while you were in with Michael. She’s interested in moving back east.”

“Good. I was planning on stealing her from you anyway.”

“Oh, you were?” I tighten my arms around her. “You would steal my best employee?”

“Yes.” She smiles and meets my gaze. “And she will be our employee now.” Her smile fades. “We can do this, right? Start and run this new agency?”

“Of course we can, Peg. It won’t be just us. There's Phillips and Stark. And we’re going to surround ourselves with good people, just as we always do. Though let’s do a better job of finding people than I did.” 

Like Neal Freeman.

“Daniel, you are an excellent judge of character. The problem is that HYDRA has super-human brainwashing techniques. None of us saw that coming.”

“Well, we need super-human vetting techniques because we can’t let this happen with... We can’t keep calling it ‘the new agency’. It needs a name.”

“I know,” she says, lifting herself off of me. “That’s my first task. Yours, too.”

“Any ideas?” I ask as I take care of the condom.

“Yes, anything that does not spell out Howard's surname.”

When I look at her to see if she's kidding, she arches an eyebrow. She’s serious.

I shake my head. “Why doesn't that surprise me?”

“This agency needs to stand for something. Not that the SSR doesn’t, but I want it to have meaning.” She sighs. “I’m not explaining this well.”

“No, I understand,” I say, meaning it. “You started HYDRA’s destruction during the war, and you’re continuing it now. I can see why Phillips wanted you to head this.”

“I wasn’t alone.” She smiles wistfully. “I had help. So much help.”

I know exactly who she means.

“This was Steve’s fight as well,” she continues, “maybe more so than mine.”

I've gotten to the point where I don't cringe when Steve Rogers’ name is mentioned. I know he's a big part of her past, but that's the point. He’s in her past; he always will be. If I can at all help it, I always will be part of her present.

With a nod, I say, “I don’t think we can name it Captain America, but maybe something that he stood for.” I pause for several seconds. “Freedom? Um… Liberty… or--”

“Wait,” she says, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “What is the one symbol, the physical symbol, that people associate with Steve the most?”

Is this a trick question? I want to say his muscles but I know that's not what she means. Physical symbol? Then it clicks.

“His shield.”

“Exactly!”

She jumps out of the bed, running to the desk without a stitch of clothing on, but I'm not complaining. The view is spectacular. Grabbing the pad of paper and pen from the desk, she sits back on the bed and puts the paper between us.

“Shield,” she says as she starts writing:

S  
H  
I  
E  
L  
D

She then fills in letters next to the ‘S’. “Believe it or not, I think Howard had it right with ‘strategic’. It worked for the SSR.”

I nod. “And the ‘D’ could be ‘department’.”

“No, I’ve learned that the government is very protective of the name ‘department’ so I don’t think we can use that. But ‘division’ would work.” She scribbles next to the ‘D’.

“H,” she says, tapping the pen on the paper. “We can’t say HYDRA. That’s too obvious.”

After nearly a minute of silence, an ‘H’ word materializes in my mind. “Well, the idea is to protect the world from HYDRA, but we have to start at home. What about homeland?”

“Brilliant!” She writes letters next to the ‘H’. “And the ‘E’ could be enforcement.” She scribbles on the pad again. “That leaves ‘I’ and ‘L’.”

We sit, silent for what must have been a solid minute before an idea pops into my head.

“Intervention,” I say. “That goes along with enforcement.”

After she writes that down, she says, “That just leaves the ‘L’. Any ideas?”

I shake my head. “Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement… Intervention, Enforcement and…” I even flourish with my hand, willing a word to jump out at me but nothing happens.

The only sound in the room for several minutes is our breathing and Peggy tapping the pen on the paper until she suddenly stops the pen. 

“What about logistics?”

I ponder the word for a few seconds. “It sounds like a logical path: Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics. We’d cover all three.”

She nods and writes on the paper a final time. “That’s it. That’s our agency.” 

She turns the pad of paper toward me, which now reads:

Strategic  
Homeland  
Intervention  
Enforcement  
Logistics  
Division

I nod. “I think it’s a winner.”

“So do I. Hopefully Phillips will think that as well.”

“We won’t tell him we came up with the name lying in bed naked,” I say, brushing a hand over her shoulder and arm.

“Why not? It might liven up the discussion.”

I laugh. “You are incorrigible, Director Carter.”

She beams at the title. “That does have quite a ring to it.”

“I’m sleeping with the boss,” I say with a grin.

She kisses the corner of my mouth. “You _were_ sleeping with the boss. Now you and the boss need to get to Los Angeles and get to work.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, forgive me for I have sinned. I have not updated this fic in more than two months. We had a falling out but the fic and I are on speaking terms again. I can't promise to stick to the two-week updates but I'll do my best. :)

I am so relieved the last week is over. Between having to rush out to New Jersey for meetings and arranging for Michael to be clandestinely flown out here, I barely know what day it is. Colonel Phillips wasn’t joking when he said he wanted me out here right away to get the agency up and running. He arranged for my flight and had his secretary call me with the information. No delays were acceptable.

Daniel is taking care of packing up the house and shipping everything out here. I didn’t want to leave him with all of that work. I didn’t want to leave him at all. It’s hard to believe that we’re newlyweds. Newlyweds shouldn’t have to spend weeks apart. Between packing up our lives and transitioning the SSR Los Angeles office to SHIELD, he is as busy as, if not busier than, I am.

Against his better judgement, Daniel did allow Rose to come out with me to act as my assistant until I can interview for one. She's a godsend, that Rose. I don't know how I would have handled all of the background checks and interview setups without her.

In addition to SHIELD, my other job -- the one in my nonexistent spare time -- is to find Daniel and I housing. So far, that has been a challenge, just in finding the time to house hunt. In the meantime, we’ll have to stay with Angie at Howard’s townhouse. I’m not sure she likes that idea, as she has taken it upon herself to check the want ads for homes for lease in New Jersey. Honestly, I’ve let her do it. Our tastes are not the same by any means, but she knows what we are looking for, and she knows the good areas from playing parts at some of the local theaters.

Between her and Rose, I am surviving, though not completely unscathed. The past week has been taxing, to the point that I’ve managed to catch the flu. Angie was just getting over it when I arrived a few days ago and she must have shared. No rest for the sick, though. I have an important meeting, two discussions to be had. I wish both were going to be positive.

As I pull up in front of the New York Bell Company, my mind is flooded with memories. I haven’t been back here since I left for California to help with the Lady in the Lake case. When I moved to California, I had so little in my desk and locker in New York that Jack had someone pack and send everything out in one box.

I remember the first time I walked into this building, the picture of confidence on the outside. Too bad the inside didn’t match. I knew I was in for a challenge, even more so than the war. I was right; gaining the respect of my fellow agents was like pulling teeth. I never did earn the respect of some, but I did from the ones that counted. 

Chief Roger Dooley. I haven’t thought of that name in so long. Too long. It’s a shame that it took his death for him to convey his respect for me. As I walk into the bullpen, my eyes immediately go the window that he’d flung himself out of, saving all of us. The damage from the act had long since been erased from the window sill and surrounding furniture. However, it never will be erased from my mind.

I also earned the respect of Jack Thompson, though it took far longer than Dooley. Looking into the chief’s office, I see Jack, head down, pen in hand and moving over a piece of paper. With a deep breath, I march into his office.

“Hello, Jack.”

He looks up, surprise registering on his face, though it disappears quickly.

“Hey, Carter. Or Sousa. Or whatever you’re going by these days.”

“How about Peggy?”

“That works,” he tosses out. “Hey, Peggy. To what do I owe the visit?”

“I am in New Jersey now, staying in New York, and thought I would stop by.”

“Good timing,” he says, digging through papers on his desk and coming up with one, which he hands to me. “This is for you. Saves me the stamps.”

“I don’t need your resume, Jack. That’s why I’m here, actually. I already have a position--”

“I’m not asking for a job,” he says. “This is a list of my men who would be worth looking into.”

Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “So your name is not on this list?”

“Nope.”

“I… I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

“Wish me luck,” he says with a sardonic smile as he sits back in his chair. “To be honest, Peggy, I’m tired of sitting on my father’s coattails, or my friend’s, for that matter. I am better than that.”

“Yes, you are, Jack. Much better. That’s why I want you for--”

“Thanks, really, but I have some opportunities lined up. I heard you stole some of the FBI’s best, so there are openings there. I have a contact, my own contact, and he’s putting in a good word for me for the AD position in Chicago.”

I want to protest, to tell him I need people I can trust, and he’s one of the few left that fits that description. However, I understand why he is doing this. He needs to do this. “Chicago. They will be very lucky to have you, Jack.”

“I don’t have the job yet, just an interview.”

“I am happy for you, though not happy for SHIELD.”

He smirks. “Is that what you’re calling it? SHIELD? Catchy. Tell you what. If things don’t work out, I’ll let you know.”

He looks back down at his desk, picking up the pen and scribbling in a file folder.

I square my shoulders for the discussion I am dreading. “Jack, I have something else I need to tell you.”

He meets her gaze. “If you've got a bun in the oven, I don't want to know about it.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. “No! I am not pregnant, and why would I tell you if I were?”

“Forget I mentioned it,” he mumbles, tapping the pen on his desk. “So, you wanna talk? Talk.”

There is no easy way to say this, so I just blurt out, “I know who shot you.”

The pen drops from his hand, and he straightens up in his chair as his eyes narrow. After several seconds, he says, “Go on.”

I decide I should sit for this, nausea making my stomach churn. The flu isn’t helping matters but I can’t blame it all on that. After settling into the chair opposite him, I start.

“My brother, Michael, shot you. He was under HYDRA control. He had orders to get the M. Carter file back no matter what. I don’t know who issued the orders, though I would not be surprised if Vernon Masters was involved in it somehow. We’re still not sure what is in that file that precipitated all of this, but there must be something in there.”

His expression does not change. “How did you find this out?”

“Michael confessed. In a way.”

His eyes narrow even more, just slits on his face.

“He told me and just me, no one else.” I leave off the part where I’ve known that Michael was involved since my trip to Arizona more than a year ago when he tried to run Mr. Jarvis and I off the road. “I wasn’t going to tell you until I had proof, but now that his memory is affected--”

“Wait. What?”

I know Jack has been briefed on Michael’s HYDRA past but apparently he hasn’t been briefed on the shooting. “He was shot in the head. The bullet still is lodged in his brain, the part of his brain that affects his memory. He’s lost several years of time, including when he shot you.”

“That’s convenient,” he says with a sneer.

“It’s true, Jack.”

“When did he confess?”

“A few weeks ago.” 

He huffs out a sour laugh. “And you just now decided to tell me?”

“As I said, I have no proof. No fingerprints, no gun, no witnesses.”

“Just a confession.”

“That cannot be substantiated, especially now that the suspect has no recollection of the event.”

A sardonic smile curls the corners of his mouth. “Guess it pays to be Peggy Carter’s brother. You can get away with attempted murder.”

“No, Jack,” I say sharply, “he is _not_ going to get away with anything. As soon as his memory returns and we can get the confession with witnesses, preferably on tape, he will face charges.”

“And what if his memory never comes back?”

“It will. And when it does, I give you my word, Jack, that he will pay for what he has done. Him being my brother has no bearing on this.”

He huffs out another laugh. “So there’s nothing that can be done. Why tell me? ‘Hey, Jack. Found the guy who tried to blow you away. Oh, but we can’t do anything about it. Sorry. Carry on.'”

“Jack…”

“You shouldn’t have told me, Carter.”

“I… I’m sorry,” I say as sincerely as I can.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Is that all?”

“I… yes...”

“Fine.” He points at the paper in my hand. “I would appreciate it if you would consider my recommendations. The men on that list are good agents and have passed two background checks.”

“Of course,” I say weakly, tidal waves crashing in my stomach. “I’ll look at them today.”

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more paperwork to do. I’ve got an office to close.”

He opens another file folder his desk and roughly grabs a pen. 

“Jack.”

He won’t look up at me, his pen scribbling so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t rip the paper. I know I should have told him sooner but I was not lying when I said I wanted proof. Michael gave me that confession under duress, and he was under HYDRA’s control. It would never hold up in court. I wanted proof first. I felt it was the right decision. Now I’m not so sure.

I don’t know what else to say to Jack to let him know I am on his side, so I leave. I consider Jack a friend. We’ve been through so much together. He was even at our wedding. Now I fear I’ve lost him forever.


	20. Chapter 20

“New York Electrical Supply. Rose Roberts speaking.” 

It’s refreshing to hear Rose’s voice, even if it’s over the phone. I miss her being around the office.

“Rose, it’s me. Is Peg there?”

“Hi, Daniel! Nope, she’s not here yet. She was meeting with Chief Thompson, then was going to head in. I’ll let her know you called.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“How is it going in Los Angeles?”

“It’s going,” I say, trying not to let the exhaustion creep into my voice. “I’ll be in New York soon, so I’ll fill you in then. Good to talk to you, Rose.”

“You, too, Daniel. Have a good day.”

I hang up and decide to take chance that she dropped by the townhouse, dialing the number.

“Hello?”

Not Peggy. 

“Oh… Angie. This is Daniel.”

“Hey, Mr. English!”

I have no idea when I became Mr. English but it’s what Angie calls me now. I’m not offended; I know it’s an endearment, just as is English, her nickname for Peggy. At least I think it’s an endearment.

“How are you doing, Angie?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” I say, even though I really mean ‘no’.

“You’re too sweet. I had a lousy audition, but that’s not why you called. You’re looking for Peg.”

“I am,” I admit.

“She’s here but… indisposed.”

“Meaning...?”

“In the bathroom. She hasn’t been feeling well.”

I sit up straight. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s been barfing her brains out. I had the flu and she must have caught it. She got it way worse than I did, though. I was hoping to take her to a few houses I found for you two but she hasn't been up to it. Oh, wait, here she is. Talk to ya later, Mr. E.” Then I hear her say in a muffled voice, “It’s the hubby.”

A few seconds later, I hear Peggy’s weary voice. “Hello, Daniel.”

“Hi. How are you doing?” I am waiting for her to tell me she’s sick, which I am betting she will not.

“I’ve been better. Just got back from talking to Jack about Michael.”

She’s been dreading that talk and I’ve been dreading it for her.

“How did he take it?”

“We’re talking about Jack,” she says, as if that is enough explanation, which actually it is.

My chuckle is devoid of humor. “He didn’t take it well at all. I’m sorry, Peg. Wish I could have been there for you.”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t know that you being there would have softened the blow. It’s my fault for keeping it from him.”

“You thought it was best,” I say. “I agreed. We had nothing solid, and now with Michael’s mind in flux, we have nothing at all.”

She sighs. “I know, but I feel I've let him down.”

“He’ll understand, once he has a chance to digest it. We need proof. Without proof, there is no case.” I think it's time for a subject change. “I talked to Jarvis last night. Stark has one of his bigger jets ready to take Michael, Ruth and Jimmy. The flight is set for tomorrow.”

She sighs again, a happy one this time. “Thank goodness.”

“And some more good news,” I continue. “I'm flying out with them, along with the first round of SSR equipment.”

She hesitates, then says, “Just how big is this jet? I thought the biggest plane he had was the four-seater I flew out here on. Howard has been holding out on me.”

“I don’t know, but supposedly it’ll fit all of us and some of the smaller equipment.”

“Well, that is good news. I could use that right about now.”

“We leave first thing in the morning, refuel in Houston, according to Jarvis, and we all should be in New Jersey by nine or ten tomorrow night.”

“Mr. Jarvis coming out as well?” she asks.

“Him and Ana. Oh, and Samberly is coming, too.”

“That’s interesting,” she says, and I can hear the mirth in her voice.

“Not my choice, believe me. Unfortunately, he's the only scientist I trust in this office.” I pause, shaking my head. “He's too annoying to be HYDRA. They'd kill him the minute he opened his mouth.”

She laughs this time. “He’s not that bad, Daniel. He kind of grows on you.”

“Yeah, like a fungus.”

“We both trust him, and that's a commodity in short supply these days.”

I sigh. “I know. Annoying or not, he's the only choice. I need someone to take inventory when we get there and start reassembling everything. So I get to spend 14 hours with him, most of it confined in an inescapable small space thousands of feet in the air.” I sigh again.

“I'll make it worth your while once you get out here.”

The sultriness in her voice brings a smile to my face. “That makes it all worth it, then. If you’re not barfing your brains out. Angie’s exact words. She ratted you out.”

I hear her mumbled, “Bloody hell.”

“I’m worried about you, Peg. You rarely get sick. You need to take care of yourself.”

“I am,” she insists. “It’s just a touch of the flu. It will be gone before you get here. Don’t worry.”

“Can’t help it. Worrying is in the husband job description.”

“I imagine it is a job, being married to me.”

“The best job in the world,” I reply sincerely, “and one that I will happily have for the rest of my life.”

The only thing I hear for several seconds is the phone static, then she sniffles and clears her throat. “Yes, well, you may live to regret that.” Her voice is rough yet quiet. Is she crying?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, concerned.

She clears her throat again. “Yes, yes. Just very tired and anxious for my husband and my brother to get out here.”

“We should be there tomorrow night. Try to get some rest, Peggy. Don’t run yourself down.”

“I won’t. I love you, Daniel.”

“Love you, too.”

I hang up, more worried than ever. She doesn’t sound like herself. She’s not used to being sick and, with all of the work ahead of us, it’s ill-timed, to say the least. 

I'm glad I made the decision to fly out there. Maybe I can get her to slow down a little. Maybe I can slow down a little with her.

\---------

This flu thing is getting very old. It’s only been a few days but it feels like an eternity. I thought I had gotten this over with for the day at the townhouse but my stomach decided to get in one more round. At least my office is near the women’s restroom.

I was hoping I would be over this before Daniel gets here. He doesn't get in until tomorrow night, so maybe a miracle will happen between now and then.

I rinse out my mouth and wash my hands, then glance in the mirror. Though the makeup is perfect, my eyes tell another story. It's the story of a woman who is sick and tired of being sick and tired. Who knew the flu could knock you out harder than a prizefighter?

“You okay, Peg?”

I practically jump to the ceiling. When did Rose enter the bathroom? Why didn't I hear her? What the bloody hell is wrong with me?

“Yes,” I reply. “Fine.”

“The flu still has a hold on you, doesn’t it?”

I sigh. “Yes. How long does this usually last?”

“A few days,” she says. 

“The days I can handle. It’s the mornings that are brutal.”

Rose’s eyebrows shoot up, and she tilts her head. “Mornings are worst?”

“Yes.”

“Are you only sick in the morning?”

My finger goes to my lips as I think back over the past few days. “Mostly. Almost always, now that I think about it. Once I get it out of my system, I’m fine.”

“And how's your appetite?”

“Nonexistent at this point.” Even as I say it and the thought of food enters my mind, I start to feel nauseous again.

“And are you… emotional, like getting angry or crying more than normal?”

I think about my conversation with Daniel just an hour ago. He said something sweet, as he is apt to do, and for some reason, I almost started crying.

“A bit,” I say, unsure where she's going with this. “Why do you ask?”

A huge smile blooms on her face, and now I’m thoroughly confused. Why does she look like the bloody Cheshire Cat?

“Peg, you’re not sick with the flu. You’re pregnant.”

I feel my face go slack, and I can't breathe. I try to say something but can’t open my mouth. I’m paralyzed.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Rose asks, hesitant.

My mouth finally decides to work. “I… it’s not possible. We... have been careful. We have used...”

“Prophylactics?” She continues off my nod. “Those aren’t a hundred percent.”

“But… I also have been using… a...”

“Diaphragm? Those aren’t absolute, either.” She shrugs. “Sometimes these things happen.”

 _This_ thing can’t happen, not now, not with everything going on. My brother has no recollection of the past several years. And I’m starting a bloody agency, for God’s sake! I can’t deal with all of this when I am with child. Can I? Is she right? She can't be right.

“But… how do I know if it’s…” I can’t bring myself to say the word. “What if it’s just the flu?”

“I’ll get you an appointment with a doctor right away, but my gut is telling me it’s not the flu.” She reaches out and squeezes my arm. “This is a good thing, Peg. You and Daniel will be wonderful parents. And you can do this. If there’s anyone on this planet who can do this, it’s you.”

I watch as she leaves the bathroom, still shell-shocked. I know her words are true, that I can do anything. I am confident in everything I do. 

Except this.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to @kar98k for his airplane expertise!

The first leg of the flight was uneventful. Little did I know that Samberly is afraid of flying, so he was quiet the entire time, clutching the arms of the seat with white knuckles. Our only conversation was as we were taking off, and it was me asking him if he was okay and him answering, “No problem, Chief,” in the most pathetic voice I’ve ever heard. After that, not a peep from him. Thank goodness for small miracles.

After a short stop in Houston for refueling and a change of pilots, we’re on our way, Samberly white-knuckling it again.

I look back at Michael, who has been on the flattened stretcher the entire time. The wheels are locked and surprisingly, the stretcher hasn’t moved much during takeoff or landing. It helps that it has been tightly strapped to arm rests on either side of the aisle.

I turn around and ask Ruth, “How is he doing?” She and Jimmy are sitting across the aisle and behind me, blocked in by the stretcher.

“Takeoff is rough on him, the pressure in his head, but the sedative is helping. I’ll have to give him another dose in a while.”

I nod, unsure what else to say. This is the most unconventional flight I’ve ever been on -- transporting a patient on a stretcher -- since the war. Of course, I was the patient at the time.

“Something is wrong,” I hear Jarvis say from his seat across from me. “We took off heading west. We should have turned by now to head east.”

“Maybe Stark changed the plan?” I offer.

He shakes his head. “He wouldn’t change the direction we are flying. There's only one way to get to New Jersey from here and that's northeast. I’m going up there.”

Getting up, he walks to the cockpit, which is several feet from our seats.

“Excuse me,” Jarvis says to no one in particular in the flight crew. “I hate to distract you from your job, but we seem to be veering from the flight path.”

The pilot and co-pilot don’t turn their heads but the navigator, seated in a fold-down chair behind the co-pilot, says sharply, “Sit down.”

“I beg your pardon,” Jarvis replies. “I am simply asking--”

The navigator stands up. “I said, sit down.”

The hair on the back of my neck rises. Jarvis is right. Something is very wrong. The men in the cockpit are dressed as pilots -- white shirt with stripes on the shoulders, blue caps and neckties -- but something tells me piloting is not their main job, or their main reason for being here.

I scramble up from my seat, emphasizing my limp, and Jarvis and the navigator to turn toward me. “The man asked you a question. Why are you going off the flight path?”

Before I can warn Jarvis, the navigator puts him in a chokehold. The glint of a knife in the his hand, which is now at Jarvis’s neck, changes everything.

“Everyone needs to sit back down,” the navigator bites out. “We are taking control of this flight.”

Ana gasps, and Ruth grabs Jimmy from the seat next to her and pulls him to her lap, wrapping her arms around him.

I put my hands up in surrender. “Whoa. No need to get excited. What do you want?”

The navigator nods toward the stretcher. “Him. Dead.”

Then it all clicks into place. Our flight crew are HYDRA, and their target is Michael. I hear Ruth’s painful whimper.

“And the rest of us?” I ask.

“Collateral damage,” the navigator says.

Without warning, Jarvis slams his head back into the navigator’s, and blood spurts from the assailant’s nose. It is enough of a diversion to loosen his grip on Jarvis, who drops to the ground and rolls away. My gun is out in a second and I pull the trigger, shooting the navigator in his right side, low in the chest. He drops the knife but stays standing. Jarvis is up and takes the initiative to kick the guy in the crotch, dropping him to his knees. I quickly move forward, grabbing the guy by his necktie, lifting him up and roughly slamming his head into the overhead compartment. The plastic cracks, and the guy slumps to the ground.

In seconds, my gun is at the pilot’s head. “Get up. Now.”

“Pull the trigger,” he says flatly. “We’re all going to die anyway.”

I see his hands tighten on the control wheel and know he’s about to do something to take the plane down. I fire at his arm, and he yells out. I grab him by the necktie and pull him out of the seat. Behind him is a metal divider, and I slam his head into it. He goes limp immediately.

I turn quickly to the co-pilot, expecting him to take the controls and complete the pilot’s mission, but he’s slumped over, his harness the only thing keeping him in the seat. What happened to him? That’s when I notice the bullet hole in his head. My bullet must have gone through the navigator’s side and hit the co-pilot. I couldn’t do that again if I tried. I touch his neck and feel a pulse, thready but still there. Holstering my gun, I unhook the harness and lift the co-pilot out of his seat, depositing him on the floor a few feet away, next to the pilot.

“Well done, Chief,” Jarvis says, approaching me, handing me the navigator’s knife, “but this does create a conundrum. Who's going to fly the plane?”

I nod toward him. “The only one with experience. Peg told me what you did when Howard was under Fenhoff’s control.”

A look of shock floods his face. “That was a much smaller plane.”

“That's one more plane any of us have flown.”

Jarvis sighs but jumps into the pilot seat.

I have cuffs for one of the men, which go around the navigator’s hands since he's the biggest and, so far, the most violent. From what I've seen, he's the heavy and the other two actually know how to fly a plane. But all three are HYDRA, so that means expect the unexpected.

Using the navigator’s knife, I pry open two of the oxygen mask compartments and cut long lengths of the rubber tubing and the elastic from the masks. I don’t think the co-pilot will be a problem but I’m not taking any chances.

“Samberly, hands behind their backs, tight as you can get these. Triple knot, quadruple if you can. Same with their legs.”

He nods blankly and I get ready to yell at him to shake it off, but he goes to the two unconscious men and does as I say. 

“Chief Sousa, you will need to be my co-pilot,” Jarvis says.

Is he kidding? “I’m no pilot.”

“Would you prefer I ask Dr. Samberly?”

“No!” This is a colossal bad idea, but Samberly would be catastrophic. “I'll do it.” 

I climb into the co-pilot’s seat and strap myself in, fighting the lump growing in my throat. “What do you need me to do?”

“Get Mr. Stark on the radio. Set the frequency to 128.2.”

I harken back to my days in the military, working the radios in the field. I set it to what he says.

“Mr. Stark said he would be monitoring this frequency just in case.” He huffs out a bitter laugh. “I told him he was being paranoid, and what could possibly happen? For once, I hope he did not listen to me.”

I depress the button on the mouthpiece. “Mayday, mayday, mayday. Stark, if you’re listening, get your ass on the radio. Mayday, mayday, mayday. Never thought I’d say this and I won't say it again, but Stark, we need you.”

Static crackles, and then, “Who is this?”

Thank God!

“It’s Daniel Sousa, and--”

Jarvis reaches over and grabs the receiver from me. “Mr. Stark, we have a situation.”

“Jarvis, what the hell is going on? Why are you on the emergency band? Where are my pilots?”

“Most likely dead, or at least incapacitated,” Jarvis replies. “They were replaced by HYDRA personnel in Houston when we had a pilot change.”

“How the hell…? Wait, I didn’t order a pilot change!”

Jarvis tips his head in a nod. “Now that I reflect on it, it did sound odd for such a short trip.”

“Who the hell is flying the plane?”

“At the moment, I am,” Jarvis says, “and I must admit, I have no idea what I am doing. I’ve never flown anything this big or…” His eyes sweep over the controls. “...this complicated.”

The lump in my throat climbs a few more inches.

“OK, Jarvis,” Stark says, “don’t panic. You can do this.”

“Easy for him to say,” Jarvis says under his breath. 

The radio crackles again. “I’ll talk you through this.” Stark’s voice gets distant. “Coyier, go get Peggy… uh, Director Carter. And hurry.”

I grab the receiver back from Jarvis. “Stark, don’t get Peg involved. She doesn’t need to know until we get on the ground.”

“No can do, Sousa. I need her to find a place to land that thing while I talk Jarvis down.”

“Shit.” I hand the receiver back to Jarvis. I want to spare her the worry. She has enough on her plate, and then being sick on top of it. 

“Jarvis, it’s a DC-6B,” Stark says. “Easy peasy. Is it set to autopilot?”

“I believe so, as Chief Sousa was fighting the pilot and the plane did not descend drastically.” 

“OK, good. Get your bearings. You see the dials in front of you.”

“Yes,” Jarvis says, “I see the BMEP controls and fuel pressure on the top line. Next line is RPM and oil pressure--”

“Good, good. You see altitude to the left of the BMEP, right?”

Jarvis nods. “Yes, compass is to the left of that.”

“OK, you know what you’re doing. Airspeed is on the row below the compass. Tell me what your altitude and airspeed are.”

Jarvis looks at the various dials and I have no idea how he can tell what each of them means, but within seconds, he says, “Airspeed 180, altitude 7,200 feet.”

“That’s acceptable but we’re going to bump both up a bit. For now, keep her steady. When you need it, landing gears are between you and Sousa. You’ll need someone else up there to keep an eye on the gauges when you land.”

Jarvis turned his head to look in the cabin. “Ana, dear! I need you up here!”

“Of course,” came the reply. Within seconds, she is in the cockpit.

“I need you to help Chief Sousa and I watch these dials. You can sit in the navigator’s seat.” 

He pointed behind Daniel to a metal seat the navigator was sitting in what seems like hours ago. Ana sits and straps herself in.

“Sousa,” Howard says, and I straighten up. “I want you to write this down.”

“Uh…” I fumble around, looking for something to write with. It’s back at my seat. “Samberly! I need paper and pencil, now!”

Surprisingly fast, he lumbers forward and hands me a pad of paper and pencil. I take it, then say, “Make sure everyone is strapped in.”

Despite him being white as a ghost, he nods and hurries away.

“OK, Stark, go,” I say.

“Cruise 8,000 feet, 250 knots, 35 manifold pressure, 2,000 RPM, 155 BMEP. You will be keeping an eye on the first two to keep some of the stress off Jarvis. Look in front of you.”

I do, my head spinning at the number of gauges and dials. 

“Look at the controls on the right. There should be four in each row. Top row, third gauge from the left is the altimeter. Make sure this says 8,000 or close to it. Next row, the farthest left is the airspeed. That needs to read 250 knots or somewhere around there. If any of these change drastically, speak up.”

“Got it,” I say. 

I look over at Jarvis and he nods. Then I feel the plane climb slightly and the speed pick up, along with a dipping of the right wing to get us headed in the right direction.

“Repeat the other numbers, Sousa,” Howard says.

“OK, uh… 35 manifold pressure, 2,000 RPM, 155 BMEP.”

“Jarvis, you got that?” Howard asks.

“Yes, sir.”

I hear Stark’s voice get distant. “What do you mean she’s not here? Son of a bitch!” Several seconds later, his voice is full force. “Peg’s not here, something about running errands. Rose went to get her.”

I’m glad she’s not there to hear this. Hopefully Rose won’t be able to find her until this is all over, however it ends.


	22. Chapter 22

It doesn't surprise me that Rose was able to get me a doctor’s appointment first thing this morning, and one within walking distance to the office. She said she called in a favor. How she still has these contacts on the east coast after being in Los Angeles for three years should surprise me, but again, it doesn't.

What does surprise me is how… invasive the doctor’s exam was. The questions were bad enough, but the physical exam… I suppose it's necessary, but it was not at all pleasant.

What does surprise me even more is the doctor’s conclusion: I am with child. He believes I am eight weeks along, possibly more. In seven or so months, I will be a mother. Daniel and I will be parents.

Dear God. We’re not ready for this.

As the doctor asked me questions, I should have known what was going on. He asked if my breasts have changed, become more sensitive. They have, though I thought nothing of it. He asked if I have gained weight. I have but I also haven’t been eating well, as Daniel has pointed out a few times, and I assumed it was due to that. He asked if I had skipped a month or more of menstruation. I have but I have no idea how many months. It wasn’t first and foremost in my thoughts. None of it was.

I’ve done a lot of assuming and not much thinking lately. And here I am. Unsure and unprepared.

I finish getting dressed and walk out of the back office. Before I reach the outer door, Rose comes barreling into the office, scaring the secretary and me.

“Rose? Why--”

“Peg, I've got the car. We need to go. There’s something wrong with the plane.”

“Plane? What…” 

My breath catches. Oh God.

“It was hijacked,” she says, her voice wavering.

“What?! Who would want to hijack…?”

I don’t have to continue. I know exactly who would want to hijack that plane. HYDRA.

No. This can’t be happening. My mind immediately goes to the last time the man I loved was in a plane. This can’t happen again. It just can’t.

_I_ can’t. Especially now, I can’t.

My legs move of their own volition, following Rose out of the building.

“Don’t worry,” she says as we reach the car and pile in. “Daniel and Edwin were able to overpower the hijackers. Edwin is flying the plane.”

Rose pulls away from the curb, tires squealing, and a car honks behind us. 

“Howard is going to talk Edwin through it, and he needs you to find somewhere safe for them to land.” She shoots me a quick look. “What did the doctor have to say?”

I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. “You were right.”

Somehow the news is more somber than it should be. 

“I'll congratulate you and Daniel once he lands.”

Then it hits me. Daniel doesn't know he's going to be a father. Tears spring into my eyes and before I know it, they start to fall.

“He's going to be fine,” Rose says softly. “They all will. Howard will make sure of it.”

We drive in silence until Rose pulls up abruptly to the warehouse.

“Go,” she says. “I’ll park and be right there. Howard’s in the lab.”

I nod and stumble out of the car, running for the entrance. I pull in the door and it won't open and it takes a few seconds for me to realize I need to swipe my badge. Fumbling in my pocket, I whip out the badge and wait for the telltale click, then yank open the door. I see nothing but the back office, zeroing in on the door and then the shelving inside. Moving the right shelf opens the elevator door and I jump inside, pounding the down button. This bloody elevator takes too long!

Finally, the door opens and I see the American flag in front of me. I run out of the elevator toward the lab.

Within seconds and with no memory of what offices or people I passed, I open the door to the lab and see Howard seated at a desk, the radio microphone in front of him.

“Good,” he says into the microphone. “Keep her steady. Sousa, remember. 8,000 feet, 250 RPM.”

“I've got it, Stark,” I hear the terse reply in Daniel’s voice. I can’t stifle my sob. 

Howard turns around. “Peg, where the hell have you been?”

“Out,” I say with a voice much more emotional than I’d like before leaning in front of the microphone. “Daniel?”

“Peggy?” His voice sounds tight and tinny. “We’re fine. Had a little issue with some HYDRA goons, and they aren’t fine, but the rest of us are. Jarvis is handling the plane.”

“I’m trying,” is Mr. Jarvis’ distant reply.

“You can do this,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I have all confidence in you, Mr. Jarvis.” I pause. “I love you, Daniel.”

“I love you, too, Peg.”

“Enough with the lovey-dovey crap,” Howard says, pushing me aside. “I need you to contact Phillips, see if we can get clearance at Fort Dix to land this bird. It's a jet so we need their longest runway.”

“Fort Dix is inactive,” I say sharply, angry at his lovey-dovey comment.

“Not anymore. It’s back up and running. Strategic Air Command has something in the works. Get Phillips on the phone and get us clearance.”

“Right.” I run to the phone in the lab.

“No,” Howard barks out. “I need that line open. I’m trying to reach my medical team to reroute them to where the plane will be landing. HYDRA knows about your brother, so we need to get him off that plane and to safety ASAP.”

With a deep breath, I run from the lab into my office, immediately dialing Phillips’ office.

“Colonel Phillips’ office,” says the friendly voice. “Betty speaking.”

“Betty, this is Peggy Carter. I need to talk to the colonel immediately.”

“I’m sorry, Director Carter. He’s in a meeting--”

“We have a plane with SHIELD personnel on board that was hijacked by HYDRA operatives. I need to talk to Colonel Phillips.”

I hear a gasp on the other end. “I’ll go get him.”

After an agonizing silence that lasts just minutes but feels like hours, I finally hear, “Carter, what in the Sam Hill is going on? What’s this about a hijacked plane?”

“I’m afraid it’s true, sir,” I say, steadying my voice. “The airplane carrying my brother and SSR personnel has been hijacked by HYDRA operatives. They tried to take the plane down but were overpowered. We need some place to land the plane. Fort Dix would be best.”

He sighs heavily. “It’s never easy with you, is it?” I hear him mumble off-receiver, then, “I’ve got Betty calling General Wilson at Dix. How did this happen?”

“As far as we know, there was a pilot change and refueling in Houston. HYDRA took the place of the real pilots.”

“So they want your brother, I assume,” he says.

“He’s former HYDRA, one of their experiments gone wrong. His wife and child are on the plane, as well as Daniel. He and one of his scientists are transporting some of the SSR’s equipment from Los Angeles.”

“Dare I ask who is flying the plane?”

“Edwin Jarvis, Howard’s butler.” I hear his muffled expletive. “He’s a seasoned pilot from the war. He knows what he is doing.” At least I assume he does. I have no idea what his pilot training was during the war but I hope it is enough for him to land the plane.

“Hang on, Carter. Betty has Wilson on the other line.”

As I am waiting for his return, my stomach lurches. Not now! It doesn't listen. I grab my metal waste bin and throw up. How I still have anything in my stomach is beyond me, but I keep heaving.

Once the onslaught ends, I look up and see Rose in my doorway, obvious pity on her face. She waits until I place the bin on the floor, then she takes it away without a word.

I hear a click in the receiver. “We’ve got clearance. They’re clearing the main runway right now. It’s the longest they’ve got. Here are the coordinates.”

Phillips gives me a series of numbers, which I scribble on the corner of some paper on my desk.

“We’ll have emergency personnel on standby at Dix. Keep me posted.”

“Yes, sir.” I hang up with Phillips and immediately dial a familiar number.

“Thompson,” says the voice on the other end.

“Jack, it’s Peggy.”

My comment is met with silence, not that I expected anything different. At least he hasn't hung up. Yet.

“I am calling to ask a favor,” I continue. “I need some agents at the Fort Dix airstrip.”

“You don’t have enough of your own?”

“Not who have dealt with HYDRA.”

A few seconds of silence, then he says curtly, “And?”

“We have a plane that has been hijacked by HYDRA. It should be landing at Fort Dix. Daniel was able to overtake the operatives.”

“Wait. Sousa’s on the flight?”

“Yes,” I respond, barely keeping it together. “And Mr. Jarvis is flying the plane.”

“Shit! Are you kidding me?”

“I wish I were, but I am being serious.”

I hear nothing but phone static for several seconds.

“Your hubby has a problem staying out of trouble,” he says, his tone gentler. “I’ve got a few guys still around. When does this flight get in?”

“Three hours. Maybe more.”

“I’ll get my guys on the road right away.”

“Thank you, Jack.”

I hear the disconnecting click. He’s still angry, obviously, but telling him Daniel is on the flight is one of two aces up my sleeve. Not mentioning my brother being on the flight is the other.

I call Phillips’ office again, telling Betty that we need permission for SSR and SHIELD personnel to be admitted to the base, as well as Howard’s medical team. She assures me it will happen.

I rip the corner of the paper and run back to the lab, throwing open the door.

“We’ve got clearance at Dix, main runway.” I slap the paper shard on the table in front of Howard.

“Good,” he says. “You hear that, Jarvis. You’ll land at Fort Dix. I’ll give you the coordinates.”

As he does, Rose bursts into the room. She sees me and takes my hand, giving it a squeeze.

I give her a weak smile. “Jack Thompson is sending agents to collect the operatives when the flight lands. We need to arrange for their incarceration.”

“I’ll make sure we have a place to put them,” she says, then turns to Howard. “What can I do to help?”

“Pray,” is his only reply.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t thank @Kar98k enough for his help on this chapter. I couldn’t have written it without him!

It's been the longest hour of my life. 

Howard has been checking in with Mr. Jarvis from time to time, and Mr. Jarvis assures him each time that they are ‘smooth sailing’. Mr. Jarvis never has been a good liar. His voice creeps up into the alto range, and that is where it has been with every check-in.

I have worn a groove in the linoleum with my pacing but I can’t seem to stop. I can’t sit around, doing nothing. Pacing is tantamount to nothing, but I don’t know what else to do.

Or do I?

“How far are we from Fort Dix?” I ask Howard.

“I don't know,” he replies with a shrug. “A couple of hours, give or take, maybe?”

I nod. An overwhelming urge to envelops me. I have to know what happens as it happens. Not after. I can’t be there for the aftermath. I have to know right away. They will be fine, I know it in my heart, but I have to be there to see it for myself. If I leave now, hopefully I can be there before the plane lands.

“I’m heading to Dix,” I say firmly.

Howard turns toward me. “Peggy, that’s not a good idea.”

“Why? I can be on-scene to help.”

He hesitates and I can tell he is considering his words. “Jarvis has never flown anything this big. It takes two seasoned pilots and a navigator to handle a DC-6B. Right now it’s Jarvis and two people who have no idea how to fly. I'm doing this from memory and I can't be sure I'm remembering everything correctly. One wrong calculation and…” He sighs. “I have to be honest. This may not end well.”

“Can you call someone? Another pilot to confirm the calculations?”

Howard’s face relaxes. “Peg, you’re a genius! I can call my guy at Douglas. He’s in California so he can’t get here but maybe he can talk me through it so I can talk Jarvis through.” He runs to the phone and picks up the receiver.

I head toward the door. “In the meantime, I’m going to Dix.”

“Peggy, you really shouldn’t,” Howard pleads, putting the receiver back in the cradle. “Even if I get my guy to help… I’ve never heard of an unseasoned pilot successfully landing a plane of this size. I hate to say it but the odds are not with them for a safe landing. You shouldn’t be there for that.” He then turns to Rose. “Talk some sense into her. Please.”

Rose nods, then looks at me. “I’ll drive, Peg.”

“That sounds like a plan,” I say with a small smile.

Rose and I leave the lab to Howard’s sigh and mumble, “Women.”

\---------

It's been the longest three hours of my life.

We’re still in the air, so I’m thankful for that. The plane has been silent save a bout of yelling from the HYDRA pilot and navigator when they came to. Luckily Ruth had enough sedative left over from Michael to knock the two goons out. The co-pilot has been silent the entire time, most likely dead. The rest of the occupants of the plane have been silent, most likely in shock. I know I am.

Even Jimmy, as young as he is, has been relatively silent, playing with his favorite truck and his seatbelt, clicking the buckle on and off and using the belt as a makeshift race track. He doesn’t seem to have been affected by the scene that unfolded in front of him. I hope it stays that way.

Jarvis has been steady as a rock but I can tell from the flexing of his jaw that he’s worried. Flying a jet is one thing. Landing it safely is another. 

The radio squawks, then Stark’s voice: “Okay, just got off the phone with my rep at Douglas. I have the exact information for landing the plane. You can do this, Jarvis.”

Jarvis’s brow furrows. “Why does he keep telling me that? Is he trying to convince me or himself?”

“Both, probably,” I say. 

“Jarvis, do you have the approach chart?” Stark asks.

“What… oh, uh…” Jarvis points to me. “Somewhere in that clipboard should be a chart.”

I grab the clipboard and hand it to him. He flips through pages and finds a piece of paper that looks nothing like any chart I’ve seen. It has arrows and degrees and abbreviations I can’t decipher.

“Got it!”

“We found it, Stark,” I say into the receiver.

“Good. The non-directional beacons will transmit the signals along the way. Follow that chart to the letter, Jarvis. How close are you to approach?”

Jarvis eyes the dials. “I would say 30 miles out.”

“30 miles,” I say into the receiver.

“So you’re close,” Stark replies. “Okay, what does the chart say?”

“Continue on initial approach at 2-3-0, then turn to 0-7-5, altitude 2,000. Another turn, 0-7-0, altitude 500.”

“Good. Make that first turn when you get the first beacon transmission. Should be coming up soon. They’ll be three of those, so make the next turn when the second transmits. Drop flaps to 20 degrees then. Five miles out should be final approach.”

We fly in silence for several minutes, then I hear clicking from the radio. Short beep. Pause. Short beep, long beep, short beep, short beep. Pause. Long beep, long beep, short beep.

“Morse code,” I say, thoroughly confused. “E, L, G. What does that mean?”

Jarvis gives me a quick glance. “Maybe it’s the beacon transmission?”

“Stark, we just got a transmission of Morse code. Letters E, L, G.”

“Don’t worry about the letters. They’re random. It just means you’re the within range of the first beacon. Jarvis, take that turn.”

“Turning to 0-7-5,” Jarvis says, and I repeat it into the receiver.

The plane takes a sharp but smooth turn to the right, then evens out. More minutes of silence until I hear more Morse code, this time four short beeps, another short beep, then a short beep and long beep. H, E, A. Jarvis makes another turn, not nearly as sharp as the first.

“Stark, second beacon transmitted and making the second turn,” I say.

Jarvis’s hand goes to one of the levers in the center console. “Flaps to 20 degrees.”

I mirror his words for Stark.

The radio crackles, then Stark says, “Set the RPM to 2300, then mixture to auto-rich.”

Jarvis flips a switch. “Done.”

The plane starts to jerk up and down, almost feeling like driving on a bumpy dirt road. Air turbulence, they call it, I think.

“Wind shear?” Jarvis says, more to himself than anyone. 

Then suddenly the plane dips hard and I hear Ruth yell, “Jimmy, no!”

I look back in time to see Jimmy playing with the belt buckle attaching the stretcher to the chair arm. It’s unhooked and before anyone can react, the stretcher breaks loose and careens toward the cockpit. The metal hits the center console, and the lever Jarvis just set moves back to its original position, and other levers move as well. I unhook my harness and jump up, running to the front of the stretcher and pulling it away from the console with all my strength.

“Jarvis, the levers!”

“Bloody hell!” Jarvis moves the lever back and adjusts the others. “I hope that’s where they were.”

I see Jarvis pull up on the wheel and plane jerks sharply upward. I feel myself being pushed backward. I fall to the floor and my legs end up under the stretcher. Michael and I go for ride, wheeling out of the cockpit and down the aisle. We slam into the back of the plane, wedging me against the lavatory door.

Pain. Excruciating. Silver flecks behind my closed eyes. The stretcher wheel is sitting right at the junction of the prosthetic.

Suddenly, the pressure is gone. I open my eyes and see Samberly pulling at the stretcher.

“Go back to your seat,” I push out through clenched teeth.

Samberly shakes his head frantically. He lets go, then sits in the seat nearest the lavatory. After he buckles in, he grabs the stretcher again. “I’ll hold him! Go up front!”

Using the door and one of the seatbacks, I claw my way up to a standing position. Sharp needles of pain shoot down my leg as I fight my way to the cockpit.

“Ana, take my seat,” I bark out.

She nods, then unhooks her harness and quickly jumps in the co-pilot seat.

It takes longer than I want, but I finally reach the navigator’s seat and slowly sit down, relieved to be off my leg until another intense jab of pain hits my thigh.

“What’s going on?” Stark asks.

“Tell him everything is under control,” Jarvis says to Ana.

Ana fumbles with the receiver. “Everything is fine, Mr. Stark.”

“Ana? What… Where’s Sousa?”

“In the lavatory,” she responds, looking toward Jarvis and shrugging.

I smile despite the pain.

“Are you serious?” We all hear Stark’s sigh. “Okay, we’re going to lower the speed to 135 knots. You see the glide scope indicator?”

Jarvis scans the dials and nods.

“He sees it,” Ana says.”

“Good. When that starts moving down, flaps need to go to 30. Got the final beacon?”

Jarvis nods, and Ana says, “Yes, third beacon transmission received.”

I must have missed that one while I was being dragged down the aisle.

Other than the sound of the engines, the plane is eerily silent for several minutes. Too silent. I hope this isn't the calm before the storm.

\--------

Rose pulls the car up to the guard shack. A fatigue-dressed male soldier steps out.

“Help you, ma’am?” he asks Rose.

Rose points to me. “You can help her.”

“We have clearance for an emergency aircraft landing,” I say.

He reaches inside the guard shack and retrieves a clipboard. “Name?”

“Peggy Carter. And Rose Roberts.”

I follow his finger as it goes down the page. He shakes his head. “Not on my list.”

“That’s impossible,” I reply. “Perhaps word hasn’t gotten to you yet. We received clearance approximately three hours ago.”

The guard shakes his head. “Just got this list an hour ago. No Peggy Carter. No Rose Roberts. No emergency landings.”

I get out of the car, and the guard’s hand goes to his rifle. I raise my hands in surrender, looking at the name on his fatigues.

“Corporal… Benson,” I say calmly. “I am the director of SHIELD.”

“Of what?”

It hits me that he has no idea what SHIELD is. Barely anyone knows.

“I am the director of SHIELD and formerly of the Strategic Scientific Reserve--”

“Look, lady,” the guard says, unaffected. “I don't care if you're Queen Elizabeth. You're not on my list. I suggest you get back in your car and leave.”

I remembered to get clearance for SSR personnel and Howard’s medical people, but forgot to get clearance for myself. How could I be so stupid?!

“Contact General Wilson,” I say sharply. “There is a civilian plane with my personnel on board making an emergency landing here very soon. The general is aware of the situation and will give his okay.”

“You don’t know the general, do you?” the guard says with a smirk. “He’ll have my head if I bother him for a simple clearance issue.”

I hear the roar of an engine overhead. Looking up and behind us, I see a plane approaching that is decidedly not military.

It’s them.

\--------

“What’s your speed?” Stark asks.

“Uh… 225 knots,” Ana says into the receiver.

“You’re too fast, Jarvis.”

“I’m well aware of that, Mr. Stark,” Jarvis replies through gritted teeth as sweat drips from his forehead.

“You need to be at 113 at landing,” Stark says, his voice steady but tense.

“I said I was well aware of that!”

“Are you at 500 feet yet?” Stark then asks.

Ana scans the dials. “We’re at 450.”

“Go to full flaps! And lower that speed immediately! When you land, reverse propeller pitch until it gets to 60 knots. Got it?”

Jarvis nods and Ana says, “Yes.”

Jarvis pushes the lever as far as it will go. I glance at the dials behind me, which includes the airspeed. We’re still at 200 knots. We’re too fast.

“Chief, buckle in!”

“Right!” 

As I fasten the harness, I glance down the aisle. Samberly is still holding strong onto the stretcher, but his face is devoid of color. I have to give it to him. He’s scared out of his mind but his training kicked in when we needed it. He might not be a lost cause after all.

“What’s your speed, Jarvis?” Stark asks.

Ana replies, “180.”

“How close to the ground are you?”

I glance at the altimeter. “300 feet.”

Ana repeats what I said.

Stark then says what I was thinking: “You’ve got this, Jarvis.”

“Brace for impact, everyone!” Jarvis yells as he pushes the wheel forward one last time.

\--------

“That’s the plane! It’s a civilian plane. I have clearance from General Wilson through Colonel Chester Phillips in the War Department!”

The guard’s confused gaze goes from me to the plane. “I… I’m gonna have to call this in.”

Just as he says it, Rose backs the car up. Where in the bloody hell is she going?

“Or not,” the guard says. “It’s best if you leave anyway. There’s something going on--”

The car lurches forward and Rose rams through the gate, splintering the wood.

“What the hell!” the guard yells as he raises his rifle and points it toward the car. I grab the barrel and yank, pulling the rifle from his hands. He looks at me, shocked, just before I cold-cock him with the butt of the rifle. He drops like a rock.

I’ll pay for that later but I can’t worry about that now.

“Get in, Peg!” Rose yells out the window.

I toss the rifle to the ground and run past the shreds of the gate. I have a feeling I’ll be paying for this for quite some time.

As I jump in the car, the plane touches down. More like slams down. The impact is deafening and we’re several hundred feet from it. Then the plane lurches and I hear an even louder crack. I can’t keep a gasp from escaping my lips as I see sparks flying from beneath the plane.

Oh God.

\--------

We smack down on the tarmac, sending another excruciating jolt through my leg. The plane starts shimmying, then I hear a loud pop and an ear-piercing screech.

Jarvis’s gaze is scanning all of the dials. “Lost landing gear! Hang on!”

Suddenly we’re turning, fishtailing and spinning down the runway. The entire plane tilts to the left and more screaming of metal on asphalt fills the air. Then a series of sharp cracks and the spinning gets faster. Just over the metal scraping, I hear Jimmy crying. 

So many sounds, the spinning, dear God, just let us live. Just let me see Peg again. Let me see my wife, hold her, kiss her. God, please!

And just when I think it can't get any worse...

We skid to a stop. 

A welcome silence permeates the plane. It's ended. Just like that.

I let out a heavy sigh, releasing the breath I didn't know I was holding. I hear a similar sound from Jarvis, then another wail from Jimmy.

“Is everyone okay?” I ask, looking toward the cabin.

Ruth peeks around the chair back in front of her and nods despite the tears streaming down her face. My gaze goes to Samberly and his eyes are closed, hands still gripping the stretcher.

“Samberly, you can let go now.”

His eyes snap open and he releases the stretcher. He looks at me and I can see the disbelief in his eyes. He didn’t think we would survive. Truth be told, neither did I.

“Sir, we’re on the ground,” Jarvis says into the receiver. “I’m afraid the plane is a lost cause--”

“I don’t give two hoots about the damn plane,” Howard barks back. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yes, sir. We’re all fine.” Jarvis puts the receiver down, then says under his breath, “Chief, we need to get everyone off the plane right away. Losing the landing gear means metal and sparks near the fuselage...”

And the plane could go up in flames. 

Shit.

Ignoring the searing pain as I stand, I move toward the door. “Samberly, help me with this.”

He walks on wobbly legs to the door, and we heft the weight, tossing the door open. The stairs start to unfold and Samberly pushes them down, but they are uneven and not at the right angle because of the lack of landing gear. I peek outside and see what the pop was I heard. The propeller is shredded, as is part of the wing.

Jarvis pulled off a damn miracle. I owe him a drink. Or several.

I look at the cockpit, then toward the cabin. “Okay, everyone, let’s get the hell outta here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scenario is loosely based on the events of this episode of Air Crash Investigation: https://youtu.be/fhOWcfb5XJg?t=10m59s or https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u0ivBeLaYR8. Also found this website to be invaluable: http://www.stpaulairlines.com/spa-training/Ground/Historical/fly_dc-6b.htm


	24. Chapter 24

Rose slams on the brakes, and we both pile out of the car. The scene in front of us is one of controlled chaos. Soldiers are off to one side, standing at ease but obviously awaiting word to move toward the plane, along with three jeeps. A few hundred feet behind the soldiers is a civilian ambulance, presumably to transport Michael, with three attendants standing outside. 

An officer approaches Rose and I, major stripes on his field uniform. “Director Carter?”

Rose points to me, and I nod.

“Major Anthony Lewis,” he says with a slight Southern drawl that reminds me of Colonel Phillips. “The general has been delayed and asked me to meet you here.”

“Thank you, Major.” I start toward the plane but he puts an arm out in front of me.

“We need to stay back, Director. The plane landed on its belly, and we don’t know what the condition is. Could be leaking fuel. Our guys are taking a look.”

He gestures toward five men rushing toward the plane. I recognize their clothing, which is slightly different than the other soldiers. They’re Army mechanics, and they spread out, surveying the underside of the plane, or at least as much is visible. 

“For now, just our personnel will be allowed on or near the plane,” Lewis says. “We have a man on board already assessing the situation. Anything we need to know?”

“We have three on board who tried to hijack the plane. They have been subdued. One possibly dead, or at least critically injured. One medical patient is on board, on a stretcher, and I have personnel standing by to take him and his wife and son.” I gesture toward the ambulance.

Lewis nods. “You need the services of our brig?”

“No, I have additional personnel who will take possession of the suspects.” I scan the airstrip and see Jack and three men I don't recognize standing among the soldiers. He looks my way, and I raise my hand to get his attention. I know he sees me but does not acknowledge my presence. At least he’s here to help.

I look back at the stairs in time to see an officer at the top, motioning to the soldiers on the ground. Four of them rush up the stairs and enter the plane. In less than a minute, two of them emerge from the plane’s entrance with a man dressed as a pilot whose hands are restrained. He appears to be conscious but groggy, needing help getting down the stairs. Two of Jack’s men step forward and grab the suspect under the arms. The other two soldiers bring out the second suspect, who is in the same condition, and half-walk, half-drag him down the stairs to a waiting Jack and his third agent.

The first two soldiers are back up the stairs, rushing inside and coming out with a third man dressed as a pilot, but one soldier has him by the arms and the other by the legs. Once they are down the stairs, they load him into an awaiting jeep, draping a cloth over his body. I guess we now know his condition.

Movement at the top of the stairs pulls my gaze away from the jeep. It’s Dr. Samberly, looking white as a ghost. He rushes down the stairs, almost falling twice, until he reaches the tarmac. He smiles, then takes a deep breath and lets it out before promptly fainting. Two soldiers run forward, gathering him off the pavement.

I glance at Rose, and she sighs heavily.

“I'll keep an eye on him,” she says with a shake of her head. 

She follows the men, who have hoisted Dr. Samberly onto a jeep. I watch as Rose waves them down, shows them her badge -- SSR or SHIELD, I’m not sure -- then hops in the jeep.

My gaze goes back to the stairs, and I let out a sigh of relief at seeing the Jarvises. I owe Mr. Jarvis so much already, but I owe him even more now. He safely returned my husband. He safely returned my brother.

The Jarvises exit the plane together, hand in hand, both looking harried but relieved. Mr. Jarvis scans the area, then waves in my direction. I wave back. When they get to the bottom of the stairs, they start to head toward me but are redirected by a soldier, who leads them to a jeep and motions them into the two back seats. Where are they taking them?

“Our medics will check everyone out, just to make sure,” Lewis says, as if reading my mind.

“All clear,” one of the mechanics yells.

Lewis nods. “Must be no sign of fuel leakage. Still not a good idea for us to be near the plane.”

Everything is happening so fast, I feel like I am at a tennis match, my gaze going from the plane to the soldiers rushing around. I’m impressed at the precision at which everyone is working. My assessment earlier of it being controlled chaos is wrong; the men at this base are working like one well-oiled machine.

My attention is pulled back to the plane’s stairs, as a soldier carries the end of a flattened stretcher. He starts down the stairs as the rest of the stretcher, and a second soldier, emerges. The two efficiently carry the stretcher holding Michael down the stairs. Once on the tarmac, they get the stretcher to full height and rush it toward the ambulance.

Next off the plane is Ruth and Jimmy, Ruth looking weary and tense. She’s holding Jimmy close but he doesn’t seem upset. I do hope he does not remember any of this. He has been through so much in his young life already.

I move quickly toward the ambulance, just in time to meet up with Ruth and Jimmy.

“Are you all okay?” I ask.

She reaches out to me, placing a hand on my arm. “Yes, we’re fine, and Michael slept through the entire ordeal, thank goodness. Your husband is a hero. So is Mr. Jarvis. Both of them saved our lives.”

“Miss,” one of the attendants says to Ruth, “we need to get going.” He motions to the back of the ambulance, where Michael’s stretcher already is in place.

“We’ll talk more later,” she says as she hands Jimmy to me. 

He immediately grabs at my hair. I wonder if he remembers his mum’s long hair from a year ago. I think about the little one growing inside of me now. Will my child play with my hair? Will he or she have my normally straight hair or Daniel’s thick, curly locks? Jimmy’s hair is dark and thick, much like Ruth’s, but it does have some wave to it, like Michael’s...

One of the soldiers helps Ruth inside, snapping me back to reality. Once she is settled, I give Jimmy to her. I wave to both of them just before the ambulance doors close.

My gaze immediately goes back to the plane. There is just one passenger left and it’s the one I most want to see. Where the bloody hell is he? 

Finally, I see a flash of metal, and then he appears, holding his crutch with one hand and the railing of the stairs with the other. Last one off the plane, making sure everyone else is safe before leaving. Why doesn’t that surprise me? He starts a slow descent, taking each step one at a time. He’s in pain. I try to get his attention but he is focused on getting down the stairs. His mouth is stretched in a straight line and he flinches with each step. He’s in severe pain. What happened on that flight?

The soldier who led the Jarvises off the plane rushes forward to help Daniel as he sets foot on the tarmac. As expected, Daniel waves him off but he does follow the man, who directs Daniel to sit in the passenger seat of the same jeep that the Jarvises are in. The jeep takes off at top speed.

I start to follow the jeep but am stopped by a deep, sharp voice: “Director Carter? A word, please.”

I turn to see an older gentleman in an officer’s field uniform, the rank insignias on his shoulders telling me he’s a general. General Wilson, no doubt. He’s tall, taller than Colonel Phillips, rail-thin but still has a strong presence. Wisps of close-cut gray hair peek from beneath his cap. His eyebrows are raised but not in a friendly, ‘I’m happy to meet you’ way.

What’s that American saying? Busted. I am busted.

“Welcome to Fort Dix,” he says with a tip of his head. “Now, may I ask why I have a guard on his way to the medical building with a possible concussion? And why I have a gate arm in need of repair?”

I take a deep breath before responding. “Sir, I take full responsibility. I have no justification for my actions other than it was not just my personnel on board. My husband and my brother were among the passengers. I’m afraid I let emotion overrun my logic.”

“That’s an understatement,” he replies with a grimace. “Lucky for you, I’ve known Chester Phillips for years and he vouched for you. He also told me to expect the unexpected.”

My eyebrow quirks at the accurate assessment. “I apologize, sir. I will take care of whatever repairs need to be done--”

“Damn right you will,” Wilson says, not much above a growl. “And you will issue a formal written apology to Corporal Benson.”

“Yes, of course.”

My gaze follows the path of the jeep, which stops in front of a group of buildings off in the distance. One of those must be the medical facility, as I see Daniel and the Jarvises being helped down from the jeep and ushered through a door.

“Don’t worry,” Wilson says, his tone less harsh. “My men will take good care of him. Husband or brother?”

“Husband. My brother already was led away by Howard Stark’s medical personnel.”

“So that’s who they were. You know people in high places, Director.” He tilts his head in the direction of the plane. “What exactly happened on that bird?”

“I wish I knew, sir. Howard Stark was in contact with them more than I was. All I know is that the men dressed as pilots are no pilots. They are HYDRA.”

Wilson fails to hide his surprise. “Phillips told me about you and Captain America wiping the floor with HYDRA. Thought they were all squashed during the war.”

“So did we,” I say, unable to control a small flinch at the mention of Steve. “Unfortunately some survived the war and have been recruiting. I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to find and capture them.”

“Looks like they know that,” he replies. “How did they find out about this flight?”

“That’s a very good question, and my first priority will be finding the answer, as soon as I make sure everyone is okay.”

He nods, whether in understanding or approval is not clear, then starts toward the cluster of buildings where the jeeps are now parked. I don't wait for an invitation, following in step directly behind him. 

\---------

Despite the pain in my leg, my only thought is of Peggy. I don’t think she’s here but she may be. I was whisked off to this building and parked in this curtained area so quickly, I didn’t have time to look around. How much of the flight and the landing did she hear? I can picture her, looking like a caged animal, pacing and frustrated that it wasn’t something she could fix. I would have been doing the same thing.

I know my leg is going to be ugly. Well, more ugly than normal. I’m pretty sure the socket is in pieces, and some of those pieces are digging into my skin with insistent jabs. The sooner I can get this thing off, the better.

The curtain parts, and I expect to see a nurse or doctor. Instead, I am staring at Jack Thompson.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too, Sousa,” Jack says with a smirk. “Getting tired of coming to your rescue.”

“That’s funny, since you’ve never done it.”

“Did you forget about the rift?”

“I think you had help with that.”

“Maybe a little.” He tips his head toward my leg. “You okay?”

“I’ll live.”

He nods. “My guys have the two live suspects. You finished off the third one pretty well. This place has possession of the dead guy. You want us to take him?”

“No, I’ll have Peggy arrange for SHIELD to do it. Or--”

The curtain being pushed aside shocks Jack and I. A man in a captain’s uniform enters, about Jack’s height but with slicked-back black hair and a friendly face.

He looks from me to Jack. “Mr. Sousa?”

“That’s me,” I say, then turn to Jack. “Thanks for handling those two.”

“You owe me.” He gives me a half-hearted salute, then pulls the curtain to the side.

“I’m Captain Metzger,” the man says as soon as the curtain flutters closed behind Jack. “Heard you had an incident on that airplane.”

I give him a wry smile. “You could say that. I got ran over by a stretcher.”

Metzger’s eyebrows raise. “That’s a new one. You’re an amputee?”

“Yes, sir,” I answer, easily slipping back into rank. “Right leg. The stretcher ended up on top of the prosthetic.”

“OK, let’s take a look.”

As I remove my trousers, I think about what happened after I was injured in Bastogne. I remember it in bits and pieces, in and out of consciousness, which was a good thing. I clearly remember snippets of intense pain, pain that makes you wonder why you are still alive, that dying would be the preferred alternative. The pain of removing this prosthetic isn’t quite that bad but it’s close. My stump has nerve damage but every single nerve ending still intact is screaming so loud, it takes every bit of my willpower to keep from screaming myself.

As I expected, my skin is a roadmap of thick red lines, intersecting in various places and culminating in a several-inch cut on the outer thigh. Dried blood is caked around it but it’s not bleeding anymore.

“Interesting,” Metzger says, admiring the plastic socket that I now see is cracked in several places. “I’ve never seen a prosthetic like this. Plastic. Wow. You’re full of surprises.”

I shrug, unsure how to respond.

His gaze goes to my thigh, and he starts lightly poking and prodding. I bite my tongue to keep from flinching and yelling.

“Looks worse than it is,” he finally says. “Not that deep of a cut but we’ll get it cleaned and sutured up.” He pats his hand on the prosthetic. “If this had been wood or metal, it would have been worse. But I don’t think you’ll be wearing this or any other one for a while.”

Not what I wanted to hear but it’s hardly a surprise. I’m grounded for the foreseeable future.

“How’s the pain, Mr. Sousa?”

“Tolerable,” I reply with as much confidence as I can muster, which sadly isn't much. The adrenaline of earlier has worn off, leaving nothing but exhaustion, pain and an overwhelming urge to hold my wife.

Metzger’s wry smile says it all.

“I'll order up some pain meds for you anyway,” he says. “The cleaning and stitches won't be pleasant, and something tells me you’re not one to sit still for long. Rest and staying out of prosthetics will make this heal faster. Keep that in mind.”

He parts the curtains and is gone before I can open my mouth to protest. 

I am not looking forward to this but if it gets me home to Peg faster, I’ll deal with it.

\---------

The medical facility is a maze of curtains, most pulled open to reveal either a bed or examination table. Some curtains are closed; I assume Daniel is behind one of them. No sign of Dr. Samberly or Rose or the Jarvises, either. A smattering of medical personnel are bustling about, trays or charts in their hands.

I round a corner and almost run right into Jack. His arms go to my shoulders to keep me from plowing him over. As soon as I stop, his hands snap away.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” I say sincerely, “but thank you.”

He shrugs. “You said you needed bodies, and I don’t have that many left. Talked to your hubby. He looks a little worse for wear but he’s in one piece. Mostly.”

“Where is he?”

Jack points to a curtain down the hall. “Second from the end.”

I nod and start down the hall, but his terse voice stops me.

“Forgot to mention a little something, eh, Marge? I don’t recall you saying your brother was on that plane.” 

I turn to face him. His eyes are narrowed more than usual, his sneer more infuriating. He’s looking for a fight. With the amount of adrenaline and emotion swirling inside of me right now, he may get one.

“It didn’t seem pertinent,” I say. “He was unconscious for most of the flight.”

“This is all his fault. He was the reason the flight was hijacked, wasn’t he?” 

“I don’t know,” I respond curtly. “He could have been. Or it could have been the SSR equipment on the plane. Or Daniel, to get back at me. Or the fact that it was Howard Stark’s plane.” I feel myself getting angrier with each word. “I can’t read minds, Jack, and I sincerely doubt the hijackers expounded on their reasons to their hostages. And if I had told you he was on the plane, would you have helped? Or would you have told me to go to hell?”

“At ease, Carter. I was just asking.”

“And I was just answering, Thompson,” I spit out.

His eyes are so narrowed, they almost are closed. “We have the two suspects still alive. Have one of your people contact me to handle transfer. Dead one is in the chiller here. Deal with them for getting possession.”

He turns on his heel and leaves. I should follow him, try to smooth things over, but I have no energy nor desire to do so. He can have his anger and work through it himself. Nothing I can say or do will lessen what he feels is my betrayal. Not to mention, I have more important things to attend to.

I walk down the hall and pull the curtain aside. He’s sitting on the edge of the examination table, good leg draped over the edge, his trousers and prosthetic off. His smile, as exhausted as it is, makes me smile. I quickly walk forward, and he holds out his arms. It’s an awkward hug due to the angle but this is exactly where I want to be. I sigh, both happily and in relief. He’s on the ground. He’s alive. 

He pulls back, his eyes going to the curtain. “Nurse should be here any minute.”

“Right,” I say, backing off a few steps. That’s when my gaze goes to his thigh, the angry red marks and large gash making me gasp. “Oh, Daniel.”

He waves me off. “It’s fine. The plastic splintered and got me. Doctor says it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“So much for Howard’s indestructible construction.”

“Trust me, considering what happened, it held up better than my old one would have.”

“What _did_ happen?”

He tilts his head toward the curtain. “Later. How are you feeling?”

I look at him, questioning. After all he has been through, he’s asking how I am? I should be asking him how...

Wait. Does he know? Did someone tell him? No one knows but Rose and I…

“How is your stomach, with the flu?” he continues.

The flu. He doesn't know. He's asking about the bloody flu!

I can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from my throat. It escapes, making me sound like a mad woman. Within seconds, I am laughing so hard that tears are streaming down my face.

His face tells me he’s thoroughly confused. “What did I say?”

“Nothing,” I say through the tears. “The flu.” Another fit of laughter bursts from my mouth.

“Didn’t realize the flu was so humorous.”

I have to take a few deep breaths in order to continue without laughing. 

“I’m sorry, it's not humorous. I went to the doctor this morning. I don’t have the flu.”

His eyes widen in concern. “Are you okay? What is it, Peg?”

I was hoping to tell him in a more private setting, just the two of us. Certainly not behind a flimsy curtain in a medical building on an active military base when a nurse could walk in any second. But now that he’s here and he’s okay, I have to tell him. I can't wait any longer.

“I’m not sick, Daniel,” I say softly. “I’m pregnant.”

His expression doesn't change. He doesn’t move. I don’t even think he’s still breathing. 

“I know we were careful,” I continue, “but sometimes things happen.” I give him a small smile as my palm settles on my stomach. “He or she happened.”

Despite the hustle and bustle happening outside the curtain, I hear nothing but silence. Deafening silence. Excruciating silence. Say something, Daniel. Tell me you’re not upset. Tell me you’re okay with this. Tell me you want to do this parenting thing with me.

Finally, a wide smile breaks across his face. He reaches for me, his hand slipping behind my neck as his lips cover mine. His kiss tells me everything I need to hear. He’s not upset. He’s okay with this. He wants to do this parenting thing with me. He wants all of that and more. So do I.

“Oh, sorry!”

Daniel and I pull away from each other. I turn to see an embarrassed female Army nurse holding a silver tray with gauze, antiseptic, a needle and vial, and what looks like a suture kit.

“I’ll step outside,” I say, knowing he would be more comfortable with me not seeing him in pain. I would be more comfortable with it as well.

“We’ll talk later.” His wide grin hasn’t faded.

I nod and step outside the curtain. Yes, Daniel, we will talk later. We will celebrate later as well. Maybe celebrate first. No, definitely celebrate first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical note: Plastics being used in prosthetics didn’t happen until the 1950s; however, this is Howard Stark we’re talking about. He invented a freakin’ hovercar. He always was ahead of his time. :)


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the torture I put y’all through with the last three chapters, I am rewarding you with a bit of fluff. Enjoy it while you can. ::evil laugh::

After navigating the obstacle course of curtains and scurrying nurses once again, I find Rose in a room not much bigger than a closet, much too small for the desk, chair and filing cabinet stuffed inside it. There’s just enough room for me to squeeze myself in.

“Thank you,” Rose says into the phone. “We’ll see you soon.” As she sets the receiver into the cradle, she turns to me. “Hi, Peg. Dr. Metzger let me borrow his office. That was Coyier I was talking to. He’s on his way here to get the equipment and take it back to SHIELD. Aloysius and I will help.”

“Is Dr. Samberly okay?”

“That’s debatable on a good day,” she replies with a wry smile, “but physically he is fine and I told him I’m not giving him his hotel room location until he helps. I saw the Jarvises and they are doing fine as well. Edwin gave me the phone number of a car service, and I’ve called for a car for you. They’ll be waiting outside the guard gate that we...” I catch the guilty smile on her lips. 

“Thank you so much, Rose. I couldn’t have done all of this without you.”

She shrugs. “Happy to help. Have you seen Daniel?”

I nod and can’t help but grin.

“You told him,” she says, her eyes bright. “What did he say?”

“We didn’t get a chance to talk but his reaction was quite favorable.”

“I can imagine. I’m so happy for you two. Don’t worry about anything here. I’ll make sure the equipment is delivered and catalogued. Oh, and I’ve arranged for a local morgue to take possession of our dead assailant. It’s the same coroner from past SSR cases so he knows the rules." She gets up from the desk. “I’ll go check on how they’re doing with the unloading of the equipment.”

She squeezes by me and is out of the room before I can thank her again. That woman is truly a gem. I have a feeling I will be relying more on even her in the near future. I’m just grateful to have someone like her to rely on.

I turn around and almost run into a tall dark-haired gentleman, dressed in a field uniform.

“I’m sorry, were you looking for me?” he asks as he moves past me into the office.

“No, my agent, Rose, was borrowing your phone.”

“Oh, you must be Director Carter,” he says, offering his hand, which I shake. “Dr. Brian Metzger. Thanks for excitement today.”

I give him an apologetic smile. “We didn’t mean to intrude, but we appreciate everything you and your team has done.”

“Are you kidding? Normally it’s pretty boring here. This is the most action we’ve seen since the war.” He tips his head toward the hall. “We’ve seen all of your people, just finishing up with the last one. A Daniel Sousa?”

I nod.

“The gash on his leg does need attending to. I sutured it up but it needs to be cleaned and have a new dressing on it daily. We don’t want infection to set in. As his director, I hope you can convince him he needs to do this.”

“As his director, I doubt he would listen to me. As his wife, however, he will listen, if he knows what’s good for him.”

Metzger’s warm laughter fills the small room. “Nice to know he’s in good hands. He should be ready to go in about thirty minutes.”

“Thank you again, Doctor.”

“Anytime, Director.”

I leave the closet-office and walk toward the exit, heading in the same direction Rose was going to supervise the equipment unloading. It’s my job to be there as well. Despite all of the emotions and adrenaline coursing through me, the doctor reminded me of something very important: I _am_ Director Carter and I need to focus on being her. 

Peggy Sousa will have to take a rest for a while. Goodness knows she could use one.

\-------

“Daniel, we’re here.”

I snap awake at Peggy’s voice. We’re in the back seat of a car I barely remember getting into. I look out the window, seeing the opulent facade of Stark’s townhouse. Thanks to Metzger, the pain shot he gave me had the effect of a sedative; I slept for the entire trip from the base to New York.

“Wait here,” she says, climbing out of the back seat. “I’ll bring the chair.”

I hate wheelchairs. I hate wooden crutches. Unfortunately, I have both now, also thanks to Metzger. The car driver is a damn magician with the way he was able to get the wheelchair in the trunk. He’s able to get it out just as efficiently.

Peggy wheels the chair in front of the car door. “In.”

I shake my head. “I can use the crutches.”

The stern look she gives me, complete with quirked eyebrow, makes me change my mind. Into the chair I go. She hands me the crutches, and we move to the front door. I lean forward and open it, and she pushes me through.

“Angie, are you here?” she yells.

We are met with silence.

“She must be working or auditioning,” Peggy says, wheeling me into the foyer. 

“I can do crutches from here.”

She frowns but doesn’t stop me from getting up from the chair.

“Straight to the bedroom,” she says sharply. “To your left, first door on the right.”

I bite back a lewd comment. I can tell she’s not in the mood. Neither am I, truth be told. Never should have let Metzger give me that painkiller. Even after sleeping in the car, I’m still dragging.

As soon as we get to the ridiculously opulent bedroom -- why should the inside be any less over-the-top than the outside? -- I sit on the edge of the bed.

“I should call Rose,” I say, making a move to the phone on the side table, “make sure the equipment is all accounted for. Do you know if Samberly was there for the equipment unloading? He knows what was there and the condition--”

Her hand goes over mine, moving it from the phone. “Everything is taken care of, Daniel. Rose and I made sure of it. The inventory is done and everything made it safe and sound. It is being taken to SHIELD headquarters and will be catalogued and stored accordingly. The only thing you need to concentrate on right now is healing.”

“That's not the only thing.”

I reach for her, and she moves closer, standing between my legs, her hands settling on my shoulders.

“This…” I pause, skimming my hands from her waist down her hips, then over her stomach. “...and especially this, he or she, means everything to me.”

I look up at her and see the tears start to fall down her cheeks. 

“We’re going to be parents, Peggy.” My voice falters, tears welling in my own eyes. “I’m going to be a father.”

“You will be the best father any child could want,” she says, voice thick with emotion. “I have no doubt about that. Me as a mother, though…”

I immediately shake my head. “Don’t even doubt that. You will be an amazing mother. The best.” 

My hands move across her stomach, lightly pressing. I can’t believe it. After everything that happened today, I get this news, the best news I could ever hope for.

Hello, little one. It’s your daddy. Can you feel me pressing? Can I feel you yet?

“The baby is too small right now,” she says, as if reading my mind. “Once he or she gets bigger, the doctor says we can have an X-ray done. And we will be able to feel him or her kick and move around.”

“Him,” I state confidently.

“What makes you say that?”

I shrug. “Gut feeling.”

“Well, I think it’s a girl,” she responds with her own confidence. “We’ll see whose gut is right.”

“Honestly, Peggy, as long the baby is healthy and happy, I don’t care if it’s a he or she.”

“I know.” Her fingers burrow in my hair as I continue to caress her belly. “You need to rest, Daniel.”

I look up at her. “Rest with me?”

“As long as it’s rest and not… extracurricular activities.”

“Are you not allowed to…?” 

“Oh, I am,” she replies with an amused smile. “I checked about that, you can be sure. But you are not allowed to right now.”

“Metzger never said anything about that.”

“No, but your wife did. We have several months to celebrate. Your doctor says you need to rest.”

“How do you know?”

“I talked with Dr. Metzger,” she replies matter-of-factly, “and I assured him you would follow his orders. And you will.”

“Do I have a say in this?”

“No.”

I sigh, resolved to follow her and the good doctor’s orders. The sheer exhaustion of the day has more than caught up with me. She looks equally as drained.

Peggy strips down to her slip, removing the stockings and garter. I make it down to my underthings, carefully traversing the bandaging.

She sits on the edge of the bed with me, her finger lightly tracing the edges of the medical tape. “I tried to be positive, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going to lose you… and before you knew about…”

I lay back on the bed, and she wraps herself around my left side. Where she belongs.

“I've never felt so helpless in my life,” I say, barely above a whisper. “Even when I was hit, my leg… I could crawl away, crawl to safety. I still had some control of the situation. With this… I was stuck in a flying metal tube with no control whatsoever. It was the worst feeling. All I could think about was coming home to you.”

“You did,” she says, voice rough yet soft.

“I did.” My arms tighten around her. “And I came home to the best news I've ever heard.”

Her hand grips mine and brings it to her belly. Though I can’t feel our baby yet, I know he’s in there. I hope he knows I’m here, for him and for his mother. I always will be.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut ahead.

I see him dying right before my eyes.

The plane, mangled metal, flames shooting out of the engine and tail.

In one of the windows. His face, twisted in pain, mouth open in a silent scream, flesh on his neck melting, flames licking his chin. He’s burning alive.

They’re holding me back. Why?

Let me go! Let me save him! I can save him!

His face disappears.

He’s gone.

No!

He’s gone.

DANIEL!

No, let me go to him!

LET ME GO...

And I’m in the bedroom. At Howard’s townhouse.

I whip my head around, seeing Daniel lying next to me, fast asleep.

It was a dream. A nightmare.

He's fine. He's here. He’s alive.

I spend a few minutes listening to the rhythm of his breathing as I try to get my heart to stop beating outside of my chest. Beads of sweat slowly move down from my forehead. One droplet falls into my eye, and the salinity stings.

That dream seemed so real. Too real.

But he’s fine. He’s alive.

There’s no chance of me getting back to sleep, so I get up and head to the shower, letting Daniel sleep. He needs it.

The hot water does little to relieve the tension in my body, but at least I'm not sick this morning, miracle of miracles. Maybe it was the dream. I can’t remember the last time I had a dream that vivid, that real. Must be the stress of yesterday, seeing the plane slam down and spin like a top. I never want to see anything like that again.

I still don't know how Michael is. Howard’s people whisked he, Ruth and Jimmy off in the ambulance at the base. Howard has yet to contact me to let me know where they are. That will be remedied this morning. I know Ruth said Michael was fine but I need to see it for myself.

By the time I get out of the shower, towel off and put on my robe, Daniel is awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with crutches at the ready.

“I didn’t mean for the shower to wake you,” I say.

“It didn’t.” He grins at me. “I would give my right leg to have a shower. Oh wait…”

“Daniel.” I shake my head. “Your doctor said you can’t get the sutures wet. You’ll have to settle for a damp cloth.”

“What, no sponge bath?”

I start to say no but change my mind. He does so much for me, and he certainly will be in the next several months, so I can do this for him. I want to do this for him. Not to mention, it might be fun...

“I’d be happy to,” I say.

He chuckles. “I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t.”

He hesitates, then says, “Peg, really. I can do it.”

“I know you can, but I want to this for you.” I walk forward and take his hand. “If you’ll let me.”

He must see something in my eyes because he opens his mouth to respond but nods instead.

I motion him into the bathroom, and he crutches his way in, right to the bench in the shower. I find a clean washcloth and bath towel in one of the cupboards, both with pink flowers on it.

He notices immediately. “Don’t you have anything more… masculine?”

I shake my head as I drop my robe. “Does this help?”

“Oh yeah,” he says with a sigh.

After stepping into the shower, I place the towel over his stump, which is still an angry red at the suture sites but doesn't look as swollen as yesterday.

I turn on the water, wetting the washcloth, then lightly rub the bar of soap over it. Once the water is off, I face him and grasp his left arm, rubbing the cloth over his skin.

I look down at him. He can't stop staring at my stomach.

“I'm going to be getting fat, you know,” I say as I run the cloth over and under his other arm.

He looks up. “Don't care. You'll still be the most beautiful woman to me.”

I hate being so emotional. This had better stop soon, this crying at the drop of a hat.

“I didn't mean to make you cry,” he says softly.

“You didn't.”

He nods. “Chalk it up to the little one. I hear things happen to a woman when she's pregnant.”

“Things?” I ask, amused.

“You get emotional, you get hungry for weird foods.” He smiled slyly. “You get more affectionate.”

My eyebrow arches. “Who told you that?”

“Greene. He and his wife have two kids. He said they were shooting for just one but she was…”

“More affectionate?” I let my fingernails trail down his chest along with the cloth. “Am I not affectionate enough for you, Daniel?”

He sucks in a breath. “You're plenty affectionate. Any more so and I won't know what to do.”

“I think you can figure it out.”

“I thought you were supposed to be washing me, not seducing me.”

I smile and meet his gaze. “Why can't I do both?”

I move the cloth down his chest to his abdomen, then lower, and lower still. I kneel in front of him but keep eye contact as I rub the cloth over him, doing as thorough job as possible. He already was semi-hard before, but now… now his soldier is at full attention. His fingers tangle in my still-wet hair.

“Peg, don't start something you're not willing to finish.”

“Oh, I intend on finishing.”

“I thought you said no overexertion for me.”

“Let me take on the exertion.”

“You know I'm not a very passive guy.”

“You’ll live.”

He reaches for me and leans down, pulling me in for a kiss. Not just any kiss, though. A kiss that tells me he means business. So do I. But first...

“None of that,” I say after pulling back and standing up. “I still have the other half of you to do.”

I make him stand and turn away from me, his hands against the tile, and I push the cloth over his back. He's still tense in the shoulders, so I knead my fingers into the muscles, which elicits a deep moan. From his shoulders, I move down his spine, smoothing the cloth over his arse and down his good leg.

After rinsing the washcloth, I run it over him, getting the soapy residue off of his skin, though my work is not my best due to his distracting hands. First they’re on my legs, then hips, brushing over my stomach, then down to my…

“Daniel.”

I see the corners of his mouth curl up before he looks up at me.

“You’re done,” I say, stepping out of the shower and grabbing another towel. “Dry off.”

He does as I say, and I do the same. As I turn to leave the bathroom, he pulls me to him.

“Thank you for that.”

“Anytime.” I smile. “Anything for the best father to be.”

The proud grin on his face brings tears to my eyes again. Bloody hell.

“Come on,” I say, pulling away. “Promise me you’ll do as I say. I don’t want you popping any stitches.”

“I promise.”

We reach the bed and I wait until he lays down, then place a pillow over his stump.

“You'll let me know if it hurts,” I say, a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, I will.”

I don't believe him, but I want him so badly right now that I take him at his word. Climbing on the bed, I straddle him and lean down, kissing him slowly. He has other ideas, his hips bucking up, his hardness bumping against my wetness. We both moan at the contact.

“No moving,” I say, pulling away quickly. “Keep that leg on the mattress.”

“I can’t help it.”

I understand fully. I can’t help the way my body reacts to him, either; his touch, his moans, seeing his body ready for me. Too many women told me that marriage would change behaviors, and not for the better, in the bedroom. They either lied or sadly have a partner who no longer responds to them the way they did in the beginning. That never has been an issue with us. I am a very, very lucky woman.

“Ready?” I tease, wrapping my hand around his erection.

He smiles through a groan. “More than ready. Guess we don't need protection since the deed is already done.”

“Less time wasted,” I say as I guide him to me and lower myself onto him, our sighs in unison.

My palms settle on his chest, and his hands go directly to my waist.

“Leg okay?” I ask.

“Just peachy,” he responds on the end of a moan.

“You promised to tell me if it hurts.”

“My leg doesn’t hurt, but something else of mine needs your immediate attention.”

I laugh and slowly raise myself up, almost to the point of him slipping out of me, then lower my body. I push my body forward so that there is as little pressure on his leg as possible. The move creates a delicious new angle and sensation. I'll be filing that away for later use.

“Better?” I ask.

“Much.”

I move again, painstakingly slow, driving us both mad. He ups the ante, slipping a hand between us, his palm resting on the coarse curls above my entrance, his thumb probing until he finds that bundle of nerves. Slowly stroking, expertly circling.

I get the message: Get moving.

Picking up the pace, I lift up and push down, doing my best to avoid contact with his leg. Apparently it’s working, if the sounds he is making are any indication.

“Keep your voice down,” I whisper. “I think Angie is here.”

“Then she can hear the show.”

“Daniel.”

His finger picks up the pace as well, stroking me with intent, keeping stride with my thrusts up and down. Within seconds, his hard work pays off. I bite down on my tongue to keep from yelling out as my muscles pulse around him. The physicality of the orgasm is mild, but emotionally, it is more intense than any I have felt. I love this man with all my heart, and I almost lost him yesterday. I can’t bear thinking about my life without him. I refuse to think about it. I concentrate on his movement, his gasps.

He doesn’t muffle his yell, saying my name on the end of it as I feel a warmth flood inside me. That same warmth that has led to the life growing inside me. Tears well in my eyes.

“Daniel,” I whisper as I lay down on him, our chests touching, sweat mingling, which hides my tears.

“Mmm,” is his only response, other than his arms wrapping around my back.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too,” he replies, his voice breathy.

We lay in silence, and I fight to stay awake. I could drift off, lying on him, our bodies still joined. I’ve done it before and I’d love to do it again, but I can’t.

“I need to get up, get ready.”

“Mmm hmm.”

I laugh. “You’re not helping.”

“We could just stay here today.”

He makes a good point. After the events of yesterday, no one would blame us for holing up in this room for the day. But I have work to do, not only at SHIELD but also with Howard. I need to know his plans with Michael’s care.

“I wish I could stay,” I say.

“But work awaits.”

I sigh. “Yes.”

“Go get ready,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “I’ll start the coffee and tea.”

I lift my head, meeting his gaze. “Thank you.”

“Just promise me we’ll continue this later.”

“I give you my word,” I say, placing a kiss on his chest.

\------

Well, that was unexpected. And fun.

I clean up and get dressed, leaving Peg to finish getting ready. I know that if I stay, neither one of us will make it out of the bedroom anytime soon. I don’t know what it was about this time that was so intense. Maybe having your life flash before your eyes makes every encounter with the ones you love more meaningful.

As I make my way into the kitchen, I see the coffee is already brewing and Peg’s tea is steeping in a teapot. One coffee cup is on the table, half-full, and an empty cup sits next to the coffee pot. Angie’s good.

“Hey, Mr. E,” Angie says as she enters the kitchen, dressed in her Automat uniform. “I would say good morning, but it sounds like it was for you and Peg already.”

I try to ignore the flush I can feel creeping into my cheeks.

“It’s okay,” she continues, taking a sip from the cup on the table. “Healthy sex life is a sign of a good marriage. And you two sure sounded healthy.”

I really don’t want to have this conversation.

“Oh, I’m embarrassing you, aren’t I?” she asks.

“No… yes.” I pour myself a cup of coffee and take a sip, ignoring the burn of the hot liquid.

She laughs, a high-pitched tinkling sound. “You’re so adorable. No wonder Peggy loves you so much.”

“You have to work the morning shift?”

“Automat in the morning, audition in the afternoon,” she says as she puts her cup in the sink. “Story of my life.”

I smile before taking another sip. “Did Peggy tell you the news?”

“What news?”

Oops. I had assumed Angie already knew.

“Um… I’ll let her tell you.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

Oh jeez. “It would be better coming from her.”

Angie looks over my shoulder. “What news, English? What is he talking about?”

I turn around and see Peggy standing in the kitchen doorway, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“We have some news to share,” I say, my eyes darting to her stomach. “I thought you’d already told her.”

“Oh. No, I didn’t have time.” She smiles and steps into the kitchen, taking Angie’s hand. “I went to the doctor about the flu. Only it wasn’t the flu.”

Angie’s expression collapses. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? It’s not some horrible disease, is it? It’s okay, I’ll be here for you anyway, but tell me it’s not horrible.”

“No! No, I’m fine, Angie. I’m better than fine, actually.” Peggy dips her head, then glances at me before meeting Angie’s gaze again. “I... am pregnant.”

The only part of Angie’s expression that changes is her eyes, wide and bright. Then a huge smile finds its way on her face. She screams, scaring both Peggy and I, and grabs her into a big hug. The hug only lasts a split second before Angie suddenly pulls back.

“Oh! Did I hug you too hard, Peg?”

“No, I’m--”

“Oh! Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl? What about names?”

“No, we don’t know and--”

“Oh! Oh my goodness! You’re going to be a mother, English!”

“I know,” Peggy says, the smile on her lips radiating to her eyes. “I know. And you’re going to be an aunt.”

Angie’s eyes fill with tears. “I am? I am! I’m gonna be an aunt!”

She hugs Peggy again, and I suddenly feel like a third wheel.

“Bring it in here, Mr. E,” Angie says, motioning me to join the hug.

I step forward and put an arm around Angie. It’s an awkward hug but I know it’s heartfelt.

Angie plants a kiss on Peg’s cheek, then mine. “I have to run but we'll talk more later.” She moves quickly out of the kitchen toward the front door. “Oh, this is the best news! It’s a sign! I know it’s a good sign for my audition later today.”

“Good luck,” Peggy yells as we hear the door close.

I shake my head. “She’s a whirlwind.”

“She’s Angie,” she responds, as if that explains it all. “I called Howard’s but he’s not there. Mr. Jarvis says he’s already at headquarters. And Mr. Jarvis said that he and Ana are doing well. They both slept the sleep of the dead.”

No doubt, considering the day we all had.

“Hopefully Howard will still in the lab by the time I get there,” she continues, her face tense.

It is odd that we haven’t heard anything about Michael, but it’s Howard Stark. Odd is his middle name. But I know it’s gnawing at Peggy like a dog on a bone. Stark says he can get her brother’s mind back from HYDRA hell, but I’m not sure even his brilliant mind can unravel this puzzle.

“Angie steeped your tea for you,” I say.

“No time. I need to get to SHIELD so that I don’t miss Howard.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Oh no, you won’t,” she says, her arms crossing in front of her. “You’re staying here and off that leg.”

“Peggy…”

“Don’t ‘Peggy’ me. You know what the doctor told you.”

“He didn’t tell me I had to sit around this townhouse and stare at this… artwork.” I eye one of the many portraits of Stark smirking from the walls.

“Daniel, you have a habit of overdoing it. Stay here and rest.”

I lock eyes with her. “So you’re going to let me tell you when you’ve done too much while you’re pregnant?”

She hesitates, and her eyes narrow. “That’s entirely different.”

“Is it? How?”

“I know my limits, Daniel.”

“And I know mine, Peggy.”

She huffs but I can tell I’ve won this one. “Fine, but we’re taking the wheelchair.”

“No, we’re not.” I hear her take in a breath, ready to respond, so I put up a finger. “I hate that thing. I hated it after I lost my leg and I hate it even more now. There is no reason why I can’t use the crutches. I am not putting any pressure or stress on my leg at all.”

“Daniel--”

“No wheelchair.”

She lets out a sigh of frustration. “Why are you so bloody stubborn?”

“I might ask you the same thing.”

“Bloody hell! You're impossible.”

“Again, I might say the same thing about you.”

She huffs.

“I promise to take it easy,” I continue. “I want to see the new digs, especially these labs I’ll be working in. I also want to hear what Stark has to say about your brother.” I run a hand from her shoulder down her arm. “You couldn’t sit here doing nothing any more than I could.”

Her hands go to my chest. “You think you know me that well?”

“I know I know you that well.”

She plants a quick kiss on my lips. “All right. Let’s go get some answers.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, will you look at that? A new chapter of New Beginnings. Only took three months. :/ If you are still reading, bless you. I can't thank you enough.

“Does SHIELD really need a secret elevator?” Daniel asks as we step out of it.

“No, but it’s Howard.”

He nods, knowing that explains it all. I lead him down the hall and into the main lab, but Howard is nowhere to be seen. No one is to be seen; the lab is empty. 

“Rose said he was just in here,” I say. “Hopefully he hasn't gone far.”

Daniel takes a seat at one of the stools around a lab table, and I sit across from him.

“I’m thinking of doing something very stupid,” he says.

I tilt my head, curious.

He sighs. “I’m thinking of hiring Samberly.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I say, though I am surprised at his admission. “You were going to interview him anyway, right?”

“Yeah, but I may forego that.”

I nod. “He knows all of the SSR inventions, he’s loyal, he even has field experience.”

“If you can call what he did ‘field experience’.”

I admonish him with a stern look. “He was there when we needed him. What more can you ask from an employee?”

He sighs again as Howard practically flies into the lab and rushes past, either not seeing us or ignoring us. I look at Daniel, who shrugs, before rising and following Howard to the far end of the lab where a very messy desk sits next to an equally messy glass-topped lab table.

“Hello?” I say, and Howard flinches.

“Peg, where did you come from?”

“You walked right by us,” I reply as Daniel makes his way to the desk, sitting on the edge.

“Sorry,” Howard says. “Got a lot on my mind. What’s up?”

“I need to discuss Michael’s treatment. I also need to know where he is so I can talk to him. I never got the chance after the flight.”

Howard looks guilty. It's never a good sign when Howard looks guilty.

“Peg, about that,” he says tentatively. “He's safe.”

My eyebrows arch painfully high. “I’m sure he is. Where is he?”

“I… I’m not at liberty to say.”

I shoot Daniel a look and his eyebrows are as arched as mine.

I look back at Howard. “You are in charge of his care. You _are_ at liberty to say.”

He nods. “Okay, then I’m not going to say.”

I bite the inside of my bottom lip to keep from screaming at him. “Howard Stark, what is going on?”

He shrugs. “You yourself said that HYDRA is after him. I made the decision to take him… elsewhere for treatment.”

“Elsewhere? Where exactly is that?”

“Somewhere safe where he’s being cared for, I promise. You trust me, right, Peg?”

“I’m starting to doubt that with each passing minute,” I say flatly.

“All I can tell you is that we’ll be in the Americas.”

“What the bloody hell does that mean?”

“Just what it sounds like. I know you know geography, Peg.” He sighs. “Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but we have to do it this way. HYDRA would give just about anything to find out what we’re doing and how we’re doing it.”

“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing.”

“I know, and as soon as I can, I will. But in the meantime, this needs to be in secret. Deep secret. The less people who know, the better. This could be world-changing work.” Howard starts pacing. “Can you imagine what this would mean if we’re successful? Being able to bring someone's mind back from the dead, so to speak? Repairing someone’s mind that has been all but destroyed. Think of what this could mean for mankind, for medical science.”

“For the highest bidder you could sell it to,” I say with a sneer.

Howard grabs his chest, though a smirk still curls his lips. “Peg, you wound me.”

“You’re lucky I’m only using words,” I spit out. “You have no idea how badly I want to beat the tar out of you.”

The smirk grows. “Can’t blame you. Take a swing if you want. I probably deserve it.”

“Probably?”

I take a step forward but Daniel’s hand on my shoulder stops me. I turn to face him.

“Not a good idea,” he says quietly, his gaze going to my stomach.

I huff. “I wasn’t going to hit him that hard. Just enough to make my point.”

I look at Howard again, and he has a curious look on his face. Part smirk but part something else. I don’t like it.

“You’ve got a bun in the oven, don’t you, Mrs. Sousa?” Howard finally says.

I refuse to answer him. I can’t see Daniel but I have a feeling he nodded to confirm it. 

Howard smiles, a genuine smile this time. “That’s great news, Peg. And all the more reason why I can’t tell you where your brother is. The less you know, the better. You’re in danger just being related to the guy, and add to that your position with SHIELD…” Howard’s voice trails off.

“He has a point,” Daniel says quietly. 

I look at him, astonished. He’s actually agreeing with Howard. Unbelievable. 

“We know these people will do anything to get to Michael,” Daniel continues. “He has something in his head that they don’t want to get out. They would do anything, including kidnapping and torturing his sister, to get to him.”

Howard nods. “Exactly. You can’t put yourself or the little one in danger.”

“Don’t play to my emotions, Howard,” I growl, my anger simmering. “It’s very unbecoming of you.”

“I’m not! I’m just saying that you need to be safe. Knowing where we are and what we are doing would automatically put you on HYDRA’s hit list.”

“You’re assuming I’m not already there.”

“I’m sure you are, but why give them even more reason? It’s best that no one but me and my team know.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “And what will all of this entail?”

“Honestly,” Howard says with a shrug, “I'm not sure. I've never taken on something like this. My medical team says it's possible so I have to trust in them. They're the best at what they do. Not cheap, but the best.”

“They haven't told you anything?”

“Well, Michael’s mind is… damaged. He shows signs of some sort of electroshock therapy but nothing like what hospitals do. This is more… destructive, and they're able to reconstruct the mind to their liking.” He starts pacing again. “We don't know if he's typical of what HYDRA does to their people. It would be great if we had another subject, compare and contrast…” His voice trails off, deep in thought.

Daniel clears his throat. “Actually…” 

He pauses and gives me a look. It takes a few seconds but I realize what he’s about to say: Neal Freeman.

“I do know someone else,” Daniel continues. “I can’t promise he’ll agree to it, but I’ll put you in touch with him.”

Howard looks at Daniel, then me, the smirk returning. “Baby Sousa isn't the only thing you've been keeping from me. Who is it?”

“A former SSR agent,” Daniel replies. “He’s in federal custody right now. He’s the one who shot her brother.”

Howard’s eyebrows rise. “And the plot thickens. You sure he’s the same as Michael?”

“He responded to the Russian trigger words,” I respond. “Ruth can tell you more. She cared for him as well when he was being... held by HYDRA.”

Howard starts pacing yet again. “This is good. This is real good. Having one to experiment on and one as a control--”

“Experiment on,” I almost scream. “These are people, Howard, not lab animals!”

“Peg, what I’m doing hasn’t been done before. I have to experiment. If I had the answer already, he’d be fixed. It’s going to be trial and error. I’m sorry, but that’s how inventing works.”

I let silence hang in the air like a thick fog as my blood starts to boil. I want to argue with him, tell him he's wrong, but I know he isn't.

“For how long?” I say through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know,” Howard replies, his tone apologetic. “Talking to Ruth, this kind of conditioning takes years. It may take that long to undo it.”

“Years?!” Now it’s my turn to pace. I just got Michael back. I'm not going to let him go again for years. “Absolutely not. I refuse to let this happen.”

“It’s not up to you anymore,” Howard says. “Michael has signed off on it. So has Ruth. They know they can’t see you until he’s better.”

“Well, as soon as I talk to them, they’ll unsign. He’ll listen to me. So will Ruth. Tell me where they--”

I feel Daniel's hand on my shoulder again.

“Peggy…”

I whip around to face him. “No, Daniel. I have a right to see my brother. I have a right to see my nephew grow up.”

My voice hitches on the last four words. Damn these bloody mood swings!

“I… I can't do this right now,” I say, furious at how shaky the words are. “I have work to do.” 

Before anyone responds, I storm out of the lab and head straight for the women's restroom. 

This time, it’s not nausea sidelining me. It’s uncontrollable anger.

\------

I make my way around the bunker, not sure where anything is yet. I start off the opposite way we came in, assuming I'm heading further into the offices.

The first area I come to is the bullpen. It's expansive, as expansive as the New York SSR was. Rows of desks, all vacant right now. I can see where Rose’s desk is, her familiar candy dish for all to see. I move through the bullpen down a long corridor. On my left is Peg’s office, the words “Peggy Carter” and “Director” stenciled on the frosted glass. I knock and open the door. Empty. On the right and two doors down, I see “Daniel Sousa” and “Assistant Director” stenciled on another door. 

I have to smile. We’re really doing this. The two outcasts from the SSR are starting a new agency.

I pass a file room but she's not there, either. Down the hall I see a women's restroom. Hoping Rose isn't in there, I plant the crutches and open the door.

“Peggy?”

She doesn't answer but I hear a sniffle. Good enough. Push doors and crutches don't mix, so I turn around and bump my butt against the door to back my way in.

She's standing at one of two sinks, head down, hands planted on the porcelain. I walk to her, then lean against the wall, putting the crutches aside.

“You okay?” I ask.

She looks at me with a ‘what the hell do you think’ look on her face. Can't say I blame her. Howard delivered a pretty heavy blow.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she replies.

I nod slowly. “Do you want me to leave?”

She sighs. “No.”

“He makes sense, you know,” I offer, waiting for the backlash. She doesn’t disappoint, as I watch her expression harden.

“Quit taking his side,” she says, her tone unmistakably bitter.

“I’m not taking his side, Peg. I’m taking your side. Our side.”

“How is not being able to see my brother and his family, possibly for years… how is that our side?”

“HYDRA hijacked a plane with innocent people on board, innocent people who could have died and they couldn’t have cared less. Stark is right. They wouldn’t think twice about grabbing you and making you tell them where Michael is. You’re in enough danger from your work at the SSR and now being the director of this agency. Why invite more?”

“It’s my job, Daniel. This is what I do.”

“Not this. Not now.” I can’t help but look at her stomach, at the life we created slowly growing there.

“You're being overprotective,” she says sharply.

I look at her, waiting until she meets my gaze. “Get used to it. For the next however many months that you're carrying our child, I'm going to be this way. Hell, I’m going to be this way after you give birth. You and this baby are everything to me, and you can be damn sure I'm going to do everything to protect both of you, even if it means going along with Stark’s plan.”

I reach for her, but she’s still standing stock-still, arms crossed over her chest. So I brush my hand over her arm, give it a squeeze. Finally, the tears I know she's been fighting start to fall. She takes the two steps to stand in front of me, and I wrap my arms around her, relieved to feel her relax in the embrace.

“It’s all too much, Daniel,” she says, her voice wavering. “The baby, SHIELD, Michael… I'm strong but there's only so much one person can take before they break apart.”

“You’re not going to break apart. You’re Peggy Carter.”

She looks up at me, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Peggy Carter-Sousa.”

“Even better.” I brush a tear from her cheek. “That means I’m here with you, every step of the way. I've said it before and I'll keep saying it: I am with you until the end, Peg. We will get through all of this as we have before, as a team.”

“A wonderful team,” she says, voice thick with emotion.

I tighten my arms around her. “The best.”

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be sporadic due to Real Life and writer's block. I apologize in advance.


End file.
